


Knives and Yogurt

by Kaiyoz



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Battle, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, M/M, Mild torture, SHIELD, mild violence, sneaky coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyoz/pseuds/Kaiyoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate way Clint joined the Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no Beta so all the issues are me. :( This story is mostly finished and I'll be slowly posting it up. So if anyone likes this please comment or kudos so I know it's wanted and/or appreciated. :D

The Avengers grimaced as they were forced onto their knees with their maniacal captor standing over them. 

“When you are ready, simply call out,” he said, waving his hand at his minions to take them away. 

They were tossed into a cell and the door sealed shut behind them. Steve cursed as soon as the door was shut, instantly sitting up and trying to undo his cuffs to no avail. Tony was cuffed along with Natasha. 

“Can’t these people come up with a less stereotypical dungeons? I feel like we’re in the Middle Ages here,” Tony groaned, his eyes scanning the barren, molding walls, sniffing at the dank, rotting smell that came from the hole in the floor he assumed was for… relieving one’s self. 

“Captain, take note, remind me to build a modern dungeon for any prisoners we may take.”

The Captain rolled his eyes, pulling at his cuffs. “I’m not Jarvis, Iron Man.”

“Well, take heart, I’ll send Jarvis the message when I get the chance.” They exchanged a meaningful look, Tony had activated his tracker, Jarvis was already working on finding them and sending help.

“Tell me again why we didn’t take Thor and Br… Hulk?” Tony grumbled. “We’d have been out of here five minutes ago?”

Steve sighed, “We were going for quiet, we were taking a risk even bringing you, Iron Man. Next time we bring Thor rather than you.”

“What?!” he squawked. “I am the definition of ‘quiet’! Agent even approved me for the mission.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thor’s body doesn’t get disabled and then turn onto a giant pile of metal.”

Tony’s face darkened and prepared to pull out his more vicious jabs before Steve held up a hand, pointing to Black Widow.

Natasha had been oddly silent this entire time, her eyes hard and cold. Tony looked around, trying to figure out what had set her off, “What? That smell? Smells like Thor when he decided to try to fix the 'mighty tank of septic' for Foster.”

“Someone’s here,” she muttered, her eyes scanning. 

Steve looked around, his eyes scanning carefully. “Where, Widow? A camera?”

“No, person. There are signs. That grate,” she muttered quietly, her eyes fixed carefully on a wall vent ten feet up, her hands busy trying to get her cuffs off. 

They didn’t question Black Widow. Tony snapped to attention now, his eyes roaming. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he called. Stripped of his suit, he slid over next to Steve. He was cocky, not stupid.

“Ollie Ollie oxen-free!” Tony tried again. 

Steve rolled his eyes, “Enough, Iron Man. Whomever’s in here, come out, please.”

“Please? Please!” Tony laughed. “You’ll be polite to anyone, Cap! What if he’s an axe-murderer?” 

“And what if he or she is trapped here like us?” 

It was a long tense moment before the vent opened a crack, the cover was pulled back into the hole by a dirty hand. Natasha stood back against the wall, tense, while Steve stood beside her, Tony pinned behind them. 

“Is anyone having flashbacks to that horror movie we watched last week?” Tony quipped. 

Steve could just make out two eyes peering at him, an eerie gray-blue. Steve gestured for the man or woman to come out. A long moment later a pair of legs stretched out and reached for the floor, a bare torso, wiry and dirty appeared before the definitely-man landed on the floor, unfolding to a not so lofty five foot ten inches. His hair was a muddied brown and his skin tinged with dirt.

Tony grimaced in distaste. The guy was filthy, whipcord thin, and just this side of badly beaten up. He put his back to a corner and crouched there, silent and still, his eyes half-lidded. He looked like he used to be fairly healthy, his body shaped like a Greyhound’s, thin but muscular, streamlined. 

“This… is super creepy,” Tony finally said. 

“Who are you?” Natasha asked a second later. There was no response, so she stepped forward, aggressive. 

Her counterpart went from a semi-sleep state to full battle-ready in a blink. His hand braced against the wall and body turned to make a smaller target, he settled his weight on his back leg, ready to kick with his front. 

Tony raised an eyebrow when Widow took a step back. It took a lot to get Natasha too back down from a fight and this man didn’t appear to be able to stand up to a strong wind much less the Black Widow. 

She settled back down, her eyes searching the man, still poised to strike. 

Steve, being Captain America, tried for the friendly approach. “Hi,” he started, tentatively. “Sorry to take your cell. We didn’t really have much choice. I’m Captain America, this is Iron Man, and that’s Black Widow. How long have you been here?”

No response. Not even the flicker of an eye at the mention of the Avengers’ names. 

Tony whistled, trying to draw the other man’s attention. “Excuse me. Little fella? You sleeping?”

Again, nothing. The man eventually shifted a few moments later and they saw the collar around his neck, thick and heavy, a red light flashing, muted beneath the dirt. 

“What’s that? A recording device?” Tony asked, his fingers itching to touch, to play with. 

They gave up talking to him after a few minutes. 

“Maybe he’s shy?” Steve said. “Widow, start checking the door, see if there’s a way out of here. Iron Man start work on those cuffs, there has to be a way to get them off.”

After a few fruitless hours of searching and silence on the part of their cellmate they sat down. “We will have to wait until there’s an opening, I just can’t see one right now.”

Suddenly the man stood, edging close to the door, not a minute later four water packets came sliding in beneath the metal frame before it slammed shut and locked again. Creeper, as Tony had begun to call him, grabbed one and darted for his vent, sliding in and shutting the vent in a few seconds flat. 

“Thanks for leaving some for us, Creeper!” Tony called. 

“Be nice, Iron Man,” Steve reprimanded. “He could’ve taken them all and been gone before we stopped him.”

Natasha grabbed their waters and looked them over suspiciously. “We should drink one and keep the others in reserve. They must give them fairly regularly if he knew they were coming.”

“Creeper must’ve heard something we didn’t,” Tony mumbled. 

They passed the packet between themselves until it was empty. Feeling no ill effects, an hour later, they figured it must be safe enough. 

Creeper, uncurled from his hiding spot a few hours later, landing silently. “Do you want some more?” Steve offered. “We have an extra bottle.” He slid the packet over to the other man, but received no response, the man’s eyes flickered at the packet then at the three of them before resettling against the wall. 

“Do you speak English?” Tony began.

“Vy gavarite russki?” Natasha asked after a moment.

“Vous parlez Francais?” Tony added. “Tu habla Espanol?” he tried again.

Natasha ran through the languages she knew but received nothing in answer. 

“Okay. Conclusion; he’s either deaf, dumb, or mute. Possibly two or more,” Tony answered. “I know there’s only one cell but you would figure they wouldn’t want us cooperating to get out.”

“They must know he doesn’t communicate. Otherwise they wouldn’t have put us together. Or maybe he’s just a dud, someone put in here to throw us off,” Natasha concluded. 

A shuffling at the door had all four of them uncurling. “Stay back!” a voice called before the door slid open. On the other side was a man, he pointed at Creeper, gesturing him forward. He held a remote in his hand, waving it in threat. Creeper sighed but followed, keeping his hands forward. 

Steve nearly shouted when the guards outside slammed the other man into a wall, throwing him into cuffs before hauling him away. 

“Any clues?” Tony asked from the ground. 

“Not a one,” Steve grimaced, sitting down again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More is revealed about Creeper.

Natasha, in the interim, had jumped up to check out the fiercely guarded hole in the wall, looking around Creeper’s space. 

“Well, there’s a six by six inch cement shaft leading to a fresh-air vent but, there’s no way anyone is getting out through that. There’s nothing in there but an awful smell.” She wiped her palms off on her field suit, grimacing in distaste. “At least, we know why he’s so filthy.”

They were unsure of the actual count of hours but it had to be a couple by then, the only light they got was from a barred off light bulb, that they had spent forty minutes trying to get to. 

Again there was a shuffle at the door before Creeper was tossed back in, literally. He landed with a ‘thunk’ on the floor. He seemed to pause there for a second before looking over at the other three up against the wall. It seemed to take every ounce of energy he had but he shoved himself to his feet and dragged himself back into his vent, unable to stifle the pain filled moan as his stomach dug into the wall. The vent grate didn’t close this time as Creeper disappeared. 

“Do you think he’s okay?” Steve questioned. Neither Natasha nor Tony had an answer. 

It was a long two hours until Creeper left his vent again, sliding down to the floor, as the water packets slid in again. He grunted quietly as he reached an arm out to grab one. 

“I didn’t order this!” Tony shouted at the door. “I’m a vodka man!”

Steve and Natasha ignored him, staring at Creeper instead. One eye was half-swollen shut and his stomach and chest were molted with fresh bruises, the old ones stood in background to the new ones. Whatever he was saying or not saying was not pleasing his captors. 

Creeper looked back at his vent but seemed to resign himself to staying ground level for now. Steve held out a bottle of water between his cuffed hands. “You look like you need this more than us,” he offered, dropping the water at the smaller man’s feet when the he refused to touch it. 

Again the door slammed up and packets slid in, they looked like MREs to Steve and he reached forward to take one. Natasha picked one up and looked it over carefully. She looked across at Creeper; he hadn’t touched his yet, staying perfectly still. She pointed at his food and then pointed at him. He seemed to understand the message; he shook his head slowly and deliberately. Steve opened his and sniffed the contents; it seemed fine. Creeper shook his head no at him. Natasha pointed to her food and then to herself, he shook his head no again.

“So eating these may or may not be a bad idea,” Tony sighed. 

“I believe Creeper,” Natasha chimed. “We should save them but we don’t need food right now. As long as the water is fine, we can handle no food.”

She looked across at Creeper, trying to signal to him. She pointed at him and then gestured to the cell, using her fingers to tick off the amount of days he had been here. She spoke as she moved her hands, “How long have you been here? One? Two? Three? Four?”

Creeper held out his hands, holding ten fingers out and then four more, shrugging and shaking his head. Fourteen days give or take, is what she thought he might be saying. 

The room stayed quiet, while Natasha and Tony dozed. Creeper was in the corner, struggling to stay awake. He had tried crawling back to his feet to get to the vent but hadn’t appeared to have the energy. When Steve had approached to help, he had all but growled, it reminded Steve of an angry kitten. 

Steve did growl when he heard the door to prepare to open again. Everyone had just fallen asleep. Creeper shot to his feet, crouched in a corner again. 

“Have you decided that maybe giving up a few measly codes and blueprint of the Iron Man suit are worth rotting in here like my little friend?” He pointed at Creeper, who hissed. 

Tony was looking at his cuffed hands, pretending to examine them again. “Are you still here?” he asked in a bored voice. 

The man’s eyes twitched but didn't respond to the jibe. “Well, I’m sure in time we will come up with something. You forget that you have one more thing we can take from you, Mr. Stark. We did the same to our little friend here but I’m afraid yours would be much more… devastating.” He tapped the center of his chest, right where Tony’s own arc reactor would lie. He looked at Creeper over in the corner and wiggled his fingers in a mock wave. 

Creeper's eyes flicked to Tony and the glowing spot in his chest. 

“Over my dead body,” Steve said, a fierce look on his face.

“We can test that, Captain,” their captor said with a wink. The door shut with a heavy clank. 

“We need to get out of here,” Natasha said with a vicious snarl. “They are scared, you can see it on their faces but they’re willing to try to do this.”

She looked to Creeper; she held her cuffs up, shaking them pointedly. “Can you help?” she asked. 

He seemed to understand her tone and gave her a look. She gestured to everyone in the room, pointing out the door, “We all get out of here. All of us.”

He frowned settling down onto his heels without a word. 

Natasha threw her head against the wall with a groan. 

>>>>>\----------------->

 

The hours rolled by and the Avengers got to experience the indignity of a cell toilet, or what was essentially a hole in the floor. Steve had all but died while Natasha used the restroom. Tony had grumbled and Steve had blushed but they made it through. 

“Well, team bonding time is getting old. How long until little boy blonde and lean and green show up?”

“I don’t know, Iron Man. Jarvis is running the show now. I’m sure they’re working to get us back right now.”

Finally, something seemed to turn unclench in Creeper’s demeanor. The latest packets of water had just slid in when he slid down to the floor a few bits and bobs in his hands. He cautiously crossed the floor, his eyes trained on Steve and Natasha as he crouched in front of Tony. He made eye contact with the dark haired man for a minute, reaching forwards to take Tony’s cuffed hands in his. He slid long wires into the locking mechanism before fidgeting, feeling for something. A click and then another, and two more before the cuffs released and his hands fell away. He stepped to Natasha next; taking her hands in his and beginning the long minutes it took to wriggle the wires through the mandatory clicks to release the cuffs. He crouched last in front of Steve, clicking through it quicker and before they had even loosened he shot away from Steve with a wary glance. 

He paused then and loosened his own collar, it dropped to the floor with a heavy thud and he gave them a little smirk. He had been planning this and his captors hadn’t bothered to check. His neck was red and raw where the collar had clamped but he appeared to be fine. He gestured at Natasha, holding up ten fingers and pointing at the door. She guessed he was saying, “Ten minutes and the door is opening.”

“Let’s get ready to go, when that door cracks open. I take point, Widow bring up the rear, we’ll keep Iron Man and… Creeper… in the middle.” He hated that name, like he wasn’t a person. He had a real name; they just didn’t know it yet. 

Tony rolled his eyes, but stepped up next to Natasha anyway, gesturing Creeper ahead of him at Steve’s side. Steve tapped Creeper’s arm, pointing at him and then at himself, “Stay behind me.”

He seemed to get the message, nodding back at Steve. He pointed out the door and pointed left, and then gesturing upwards. 

“I think he means, go left and go up. Is that what you mean, Lassie?” Tony asked with a smirk.

“I got that Iron Man,” Cap said with a resigned look on his face. When Steve heard shuffling at the door he tensed and prepared to advance. He didn’t wait for it to swing all the way open before bowling it open the rest of the way; laying out the first few guys that were close. Creeper had one-man unconscious and another man in a sleeper hold, while Natasha stood over two more men on the floor. Tony had snagged a cell phone and was already hacking it. 

“Let’s move,” Steve ordered, a gun in hand.

Creeper had a gun now too, stripping knives from the guards before following Steve. Natasha had a gun in each hand, her eyes watching their backs closely as they headed for the first stair well. They were almost to the second landing before alarms began to clang.


	3. Chapter 3

They picked up their pace as Hydra agents poured out of a room, like ants from a disturbed hill. Tony was on the phone; shouting into it at what he guessed was Jarvis. 

Shots started to fly, as they moved farther through the base. They crouched but Steve would soon need to start shooting back. It was Creeper that took the first shot though. A Hydra agent stepped around the corner to the other side of the computer banks they were crouched beside about thirty yards away. Before Steve could even get a proper bead on the man, a spot bloomed on his forehead and he collapsed, Creeper’s gun raised and steady. 

Steve directed them further and Creeper began to shoot beside Steve, Natasha’s own gun echoing their shots. Steve couldn’t help but notice that every time Creeper shot, somebody fell, and the man never bothered to wait until the person was down, already moving onto his next shot. One shot, one kill, appeared to be his motto. Steve wasn’t a bad shot at all but Creeper was remarkable, his targets were dropping as fast as he could move his gun. 

They continued through the factory until they could begin to smell the fresh air, this seemed to make their captors even more aggressive. Apparently, they weren’t going to just be allowed to leave. 

“Get one of those Jeeps running, Iron Man!” Steve shouted over the noise. 

“Already on it!” Tony called out from beneath one of the hoods. They held their ground while Tony worked and a minute later it roared to life and they jumped in. Creeper was in a crouch on the backseat as the Hydra agents gave chase. Despite Tony’s wild driving he still managed to shoot down targets following them, blowing out tire after tire as Natasha shot, trying to dissuade their pursuers. Steve was on the phone with SHIELD as they blazed their way out onto the open road. Fortunately, the deserted plains of the Ukraine were unlikely to have many bystanders and they could charge recklessly towards the outlying hills. 

If SHIELD didn’t arrive soon, they would start to have some serious concerns, especially as they saw the helicopters lift from the base behind them.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Tony. A few moments later as the Avengers began to truly sweat, a Black Hawk helicopter came screaming from behind the hills with a blonde and his hammer trailing them. Tony couldn’t help but wave as the two crossed paths. The door to the Black Hawk opened and a small figure leapt. Tony had to wave harder as Bruce fell, already changing into the Giant Green Rage Monster they knew and loved. 

They slowed the Jeep and it rocked as The Hulk hit the ground less than twenty feet away. Three more helicopters, the SHIELD logo emblazoned across the side of each of them, appeared and began to settle several hundred feet away. Hulk took a roaring leap across the ground, towards the slowing Hydra army. 

The remaining Avengers staggered out of their Jeep towards the waiting helicopters, Tony didn’t even wait before he grabbed Creeper by the arm, dragging him in in Cap’s wake. 

“Sir!” the Captain shouted across the distance, waving to a calmly waiting Agent Coulson standing beside the Chinook that would hopefully take them home. 

“You managed to find the place?” Tony snarked. “What do you think of our party?”

Agent Coulson feigned looking around, ignoring the crashing they could hear even from this distance as The Hulk and Thor went to work. Delta team was taking care of them and Sitwell was keeping a radio on them all. 

He gave them a bland smile. “The décor needs something. Who’s your guest?” he asked, not so mild now. 

“This is our good friend… or creepy tag along… we named him Creeper. Can we keep him?” Tony asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

Coulson played along gesturing for them to come towards the medic standing by. “You’ll have to walk and feed him… And take his weapons.”

Agent Coulson held out a hand for the gun still clutched in his grip, he put the gun in his waistband with a challenging look. 

Coulson shook his head and held his hand out again, insistent. “You don’t hand over the gun, you don’t get on the helicopter.” Natasha stepped to Coulson and handed her guns over, gesturing for Creeper to follow suit. 

>>>>>\----------------->

Clint glared darkly, handing over the gun. It only had a few rounds left he consoled himself, not enough to fight his way out of their hands if he had to. Plus, he needed a ride and he didn’t want to give them any reason to leave him behind. With any luck they’d help him to the States and release him. Without luck, he’d be arrested but at least he would be in the United States. 

Their pet “suit” handed over a bottle of water in exchange for the gun. He put his back to the nearest flat surface, watching in a surreal kind of way as The Hulk… The Freaking Hulk… smashed what had been his prison for more than two weeks. 

They waited for over a half hour as SHIELD teams in Humvees swarmed the former Hydra base. Clint tried to blend in with the goings on but judging by the wide berth both agents and medics took as they passed him he assumed he wasn’t doing the best job. Iron Man… Freaking Iron Man… plopped down beside him. Clint watched his mouth move up and down, picking up a few tones here and there but he was honestly too tired to focus on his lip reading skills. He just grimaced blankly at Tony, hoping to pick up a gesture to figure out what was going on. 

Eventually Black Widow… Freaking Widow… wandered over, freshly bandaged and still looking surly, sitting down on his other side. She didn’t say a word, wasn’t blathering on like Iron Man, she stared at him for a few long moments before going silent and watching the buzzing agents. 

Then he watched as Thor, the Freaking God of Thunder, rocketed across the sky with a limp Hulk in his arms. Was that The Hulk in human form? He wasn’t sure. Probably. He had to keep from laughing as these people, ones he had only seen on TV or were cursed about by his employers, milled around him. It was a surreal moment, but it had also been a surreal few weeks. 

It seemed like they had spent enough time doing what they were doing. There was a lot of gesturing and shouting but he followed as Tony once more tugged him around like his own personal puppy as they boarded the helicopter. As the door shut, he noticed he reeked. It had been a bad few weeks so of course he stunk but he had to feel for the others on the chopper, this wasn’t going to be a pleasant ride. 

The Hulk, or human Hulk, he wasn’t sure of the guy’s real name smiled sheepishly at him when their eyes met. The poor guy was in a pair of track shorts and a blanket, not exactly fit for company. Iron Man was talking, his arms flailing wildly, as he talked to human Hulk, he was pointing at himself and then at Clint. 

Bruce looked over and his lips moved. 

>>>>>\----------------->

“… and the guy hasn’t said a damn word! Maybe he doesn’t know any of the languages we know. Speak to him!” Tony finished.

Bruce frowned but looked over to the filthy man with them. He tried Farsi first, then slid to Arabic. There was still not a twitch of an eyelid. He tried Portuguese, Polish, and a few others before growing a bit frustrated. 

“Maybe he belongs to one of those tribes in Micronesia or something?” Agent Anderson piped up from Coulson’s side. “Maybe that’s why he shoots so well, uses a blow dart or something.”

“And he’s white because?” Tony asked, an evil grin flitting across his face. “Is he Albino? The rare blue-eyed Micronesian?” 

Anderson flushed, “Isn’t Micronesia near Hawaii? Maybe… I don’t know.”

Coulson rolled his eyes. “Please, be quiet Agent Anderson, you’re embarrassing SHIELD right now… And remind me to give you a geography book.”

Bruce gestured with his hands and Creeper’s hands lifted in response. 

>>>>>\----------------->

Human Hulk appeared frustrated for a second, his hands flitted to the sign for ‘name’ while his brain worked and before Clint could think his hand instinctively lifted in response. Signing a ‘C’ near his jaw. 

Human Hulk blinked a few times before lifting again and asking name. Clint fingerspelled the letters out, “C-L-I-N-T.” 

Human Hulk waved his hands to stop him. “Slow,” he responded.

He spelled his name slower and Human Hulk broke out in a true smile.

>>>>>\----------------->

“He’s deaf,” Bruce concluded. “His name is Clint!” 

“Huh?” Steve asked, inelegantly. “He can’t hear us?”

Coulson held his bland mask with an iron grip. “That is what deaf means, Captain.”

Steve’s cheeks stained pink but he didn’t do anything else, except ask, “Can you ask him where he is from?”

Bruce scrunched his face up. “I’ve only taken a few sign classes. I need to remember.”

His hands lifted hesitantly. “You from where?” he asked, saying the words as he signed. 

Clint made an arm gesture, his fingers interlaced. 

“Um? World? I don’t know that one,” Bruce announced. He wiggled his fingers hopefully. “Can you fingerspell that?”

Clint carefully spelled out USA. 

“Well, that’s something. Let’s everyone just relax for a while, we’ll debrief and question Clint here later,” Agent Coulson managed. They passed out another round of water.

>>>>>\----------------->

Clint knew something was off about twenty minutes later. They had apparently agreed to take a break while they continued the flight, everyone lost in their own thoughts and Suit lost in his cellphone. 

He tried to keep his eyes open, he really did, but shaking his head in an effort to assert consciousness only made him dizzy. He realized he had been drugged too late, he groaned, trying to reach for a knife but his body was too heavy and the damn thing slipped from his lax grip. He started to slump against the Widow, she barked something harsh but he couldn’t pick up enough sounds to figure out what. She was probably pissed that he was drooling on her. Somebody, it felt like someone with a big hand, took his ankles and stretched his body out. 

He panicked, he wasn’t proud of it, but he was out of control. Somebody else was forcing him down, somebody else was making it impossible to get up and open his eyes, to fight back. There were other noises, loud enough for him to hear, shouting maybe? But they were lost in the haze of his own mind. Internally, he was screaming, he must have made some noises because a gentle hand rubbed his back, avoiding the welts and lacerations, in an effort to comfort him. He berated himself for letting his guard down and trusting. He should never trust the government.


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha looked over when Creeper… or Clint groaned beside her. She tensed when his weight slowly pressed against her side, until he appeared to be only upright because of her presence. 

Her eyes shot to Coulson; he was watching Clint carefully. “You drugged him,” she hissed. 

“Yes,” he nodded. “We are going to the Helicarrier and he can’t be awake to see the layout there. He obviously has some talents that are undisclosed.”

Tony’s face was darker than she had seen it in a while. “He helped us out with a big risk to himself! You could’ve just blindfolded him!”

“He’s a risk, himself. He needed to be restrained and I had a feeling that he would not allow himself to be blindfolded and cuffed.” Coulson’s face was unapologetic.

Steve shook his head, angry. He reached over and gently helped lay Clint down on the floor, ignoring the muffled sounds coming from the younger man. He must be panicking. Coulson stepped up next to him and placed a gentle hand on the younger man’s back. 

He rubbed his fingers up and down the man’s back, carefully avoiding the injuries. “Once he’s out we need to roll him onto his back.” 

Eventually Clint’s awkward struggling and mumbling slowed to a stop and Steve rolled the other man onto his back, cushioning his head with a blanket. Coulson checked his eyes and determined that the other man was out cold. 

Coulson called in something to the Helicarrier and it appeared in the distance as the retro reflectors around it turned off to allow pilots to land. The Chinook touched down and Steve hefted their prisoner/friend into his arms and moved him to the waiting gurney. 

“I’ll stay with him,” Natasha began. 

Steve shook his head. “You need to visit medical, Widow. I’ll stick with him.”

She nodded briskly before marching off. Tony followed behind her with Thor and Bruce.

The medics checking over their prisoner started to roll the gurney indoors and Coulson looked up at him then, “Delta team has reacquired your shield, Agent Romanov’s weapons, and Stark’s armor. They are coming in on the next transport.”

They made their way into the stark white rooms of medical. Steve stood against a wall while the doctors shouted and discussed how to care for their new prisoner. They wiped off places to insert needles, orange streaks of benadine everywhere. 

“We will keep him sedated for another six hours,” the doctor told Agent Coulson. “He’s dehydrated and definitely hungry, except for a few treatable wounds he seems okay. His neck is probably the biggest problem. He appears to have been collared with something similar to a taser. He has several bad burns around his neck that are infected, he will need antibiotics.” 

Coulson nodded, typing a few notes on his tablet. “Keep me updated. Do not wake him until you’ve called me down. Start fitting him for hearing aides.”

The doctors nodded and Coulson took off with Steve hot on his heels. 

“How do you know he needs hearing aides?” Steve asked as they stepped on the elevator. 

“You said that your captors threatened to take Stark’s reactor and that they had taken something from the other man, if he’s deaf, they probably took his hearing aides, if nothing else it can’t hurt anything. Hungry?”

“Starving,” Steve agreed. 

>>>>>\----------------->

It was some long hours until Clint swam back to consciousness, struggling against wave after wave of exhaustion. He huffed, breathing hard to try to get himself back up right. The past few days came zooming back to him and he struggled even harder. He relaxed against the bed after a few moments, trying to assess the situation. 

He couldn’t open his eyes yet but he didn’t feel a presence around him. The room was still and smelled clean, was he in another cell? He was still fairly grimy but his hands weren’t secured and he was on a clean smelling bed and it felt like a hospital bed. Those were all good signs.

After a few long moments he could open his eyes, and he checked the room. There was one window, too small to fit out, but it was dark and there was nothing but a remote, a bottle of water, and… he was shocked to see a pair of hearing aides. They were the big clunky over the ear kind but they were the ones he was familiar with. 

He scrambled out of bed too quickly, stumbling and his legs buckling under the unexpected weight as he went down on his knees with a groan. He hissed when the IV lines tugged in his arms. He picked up one aide and slid it into his ear, fiddling with the volume control for a moment before using the other one and snapping his fingers a few times to test the volume. He liked a low volume; it helped with his focus. He took the water bottle and pointedly chucked it to the other side of the bed. He messed with the IV lines, trying decide to take them out of not, but without a gauze pad it would be messy. 

A soft knock on the door set him on his guard. It was Suit from earlier along with Captain America. 

Suit looked at the floor and the rapidly spreading puddle of water coming from the bottle. “I should’ve seen that one coming,” he said blandly. 

“Clint, is it? Can you understand me now?” the suit asked. 

Clint didn’t respond staring hard at the other man. It was Captain America’s voice that got his attention. 

“Clint? Can you understand me? I’m… I’m Steve Rogers, you remember me?” Steve gave his biggest smile. 

“Yeah, I remember you,” Clint finally said. 

Agent Coulson kept up a professional mask. “I am Agent Coulson with Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division or SHIELD. Do you know where you are right now?”

“SHIELD custody, I’m guessing,” he snorted. “One prison for another.”

Coulson smiled. “I wouldn’t say prison, more of holding until we can figure out what to do with you. I apologize for sedating you but we felt it prudent given the parameters of your abilities and the fact that we needed to transport you to our secure base. I know it’s not the best way to say thank you for helping free our people. However, your fingerprints turned up some interesting information.”

Clint shrugged off the apology, playing with the sheet and assessing whether he could make a run for it before this got out of hand. “Interesting?”

“I think we can leave it until you’ve had a proper shower and a decent meal though. I’m going to bring the doctor in now, do I have your word that you will not attack her?” 

He caught Agent Coulson’s eye, holding it. “My word count for much?” he asked. 

“Until you prove me wrong, it does,” he answered. “You helped to free some very important consultants of ours before any serious harm could be inflicted. We take that into consideration. So, do I have your word?”

Clint nodded, not sure what to do with this level of trust from a government man and a suit at that.

The doctor was older and severe looking but she wasn’t harsh when she pulled back bandages and gentled her touch when he couldn’t suppress a flinch. Captain America and Suit… Agent Coulson still stood in the doorway while the doctor buzzed. 

“I’m going to have the nurse take our your IVs and help you with your bandage so that you can shower. There’s antibacterial soap that you need to use. Everything is anti-fungal and you need to use it all. Stop tearing your nails down, we’ll get you a nail clipper, the last thing you’ll want is to lose a finger from an infection. Your wounds are clean so do not debride them. The nurse will clean and re-bandage your wounds after the shower. Wash multiple times and stay away from your neck. I would suggest trying to keep the soap away from it. Do you understand these directions?” she said.

He nodded. “No questions?” she double-checked. He shook his head. 

“Great,” she gave him a half smile and was gone in the swirl of a lab coat. 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

The nurse came in then, with the same calm energy, quickly unhooking his IVs and showing him how the shower worked. When he finally got inside he smiled as the warmth seeped into tired muscles and the dirt began to come off. He started at his hair, working handful after handful of antibacterial soap through his locks until they ran clean. He worked all the way until he got to his feet and every drop of water was going down the drain clear. He was exhausted but he did one more round of soap just to feel like a normal person again. Finally, shaking with exhaustion he dried off and stepped into clean clothes. All black track pants with a SHIELD logo on the hip and a matching hoodie. The nurse met him in the bathroom, cleaning and rebinding with quick efficiency. 

Back in his cell-room the sheets had been changed back to pristine white versus muddy gray and a tray with soup and a sandwich had appeared. He threw the idea of it being drugged to the side. At this point, he wouldn’t have cared if it had cyanide in it, he was ravenous and if he was going down, he was going down full and fat. 

Clint had the half sandwich down in four bites and he started swallowing his soup without chewing. He stopped when he saw the Captain in the doorway. The other man looked dumbstruck, he stepped out of the room, checked something and then stepped back in. 

“Clint?” he asked. “You’re blonde?”

Clint raised one brow, a blonde brow. “Um… yeah… since I was born.” Clint nearly smiled at the Captain’s confused puppy look. He couldn’t figure out what was going on until a drop of water dripped from his hair onto his nose. The dirt. It had made him a brunette. “I guess I was pretty filthy, huh, Captain?”

The other man smiled, a big easy grin. “I guess so and call me Steve. Mind if I come in?”

Clint nodded, slowing down his eating. 

Steve took the only chair in the room. “I need to apologize, for allowing them to sedate you. I didn’t know they were going to do that and I should have.”

“Really?” No one had ever apologized to him before. “No worries, Capta… Steve. I didn’t wake up in a warehouse with someone driving nails into my thighs. I’d say it’s been a pretty good day. So what did they really send you in here to talk to me about?” Clint asked curiously. He ignored Steve’s flinch at the mention of “nails”. 

Steve shook his head. “I came on my own. They are going to question you later though. As long as you are straight with them, I think you should be fine. Agent Coulson is a good guy. He really is. The director… not so much. You’ll have to get credit for helping us out, no matter what.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Clint answered. 

“I just wanted to come by and make sure you were okay. I have to go debrief and then you’ll be questioned. Just, be honest. And…”

“Hey, Creeper!” Tony came blasting in, startling Clint and enough that he had his plate up and ready to be flung. “You’re a blonde? Hot. Looking pretty sexy all… clean.” 

He sat down on the bed at Clint’s feet. Reaching to grab his Gatorade but Clint snagged it from his grasp, giving him a hard look. 

“Whoa! Sorr-y! I didn’t realize you were so protective of your Gatorade. I thought we had bonded, POWs and all that. BFFs. I was going to invite you to my birthday and everything. We could take our act on the road, Jay and Silent Bob style.” 

Clint quietly listened as Tony’s spiel continued. “You know… I think I’m proud of the US government. They keep it pretty quiet that the guy in the Iron Man suit is insane.”

“Insane is a wrung out term. I prefer a grandiose belief in myself.” Both Tony and Steve’s phone dinged simultaneously and Tony sighed aloud. “All right, dad wants us to debrief. We’ll see you around, Creeper.”

“It’s Clint, not Creeper,” he said as the door clicked shut.

>>>>>\----------------->

Coulson twirled his pen in his hands, as they went over the story one more time about the man they had designated as Creeper. “And he shot all these people without hesitation?”

Steve nodded, “Yes, sir, one shot one kill. Even from a distance. He never shot anyone that was already down or no threat. There were a few just trying to escape and he never shot at those people.”

Director Fury sat at the head of the table, his finger’s steepled tips touching his lip his one eye boring a hole in the table as he listened. “And he never missed?”

“Not while I watched. Widow? Iron Man?”

Natasha shook her head, while Tony opened his mouth. “It was unbelievably cool, not as cool as our own rage monster, no worries Bruce, but it was still pretty awesome to watch.” He held up a fist to bump, shaking it insistently in Bruce’s face, until the other man bumped it back. 

“We have compiled some information on who we think our… guest is.” Coulson hit a button and the screen at the back of the room showed a picture of a younger Creeper, probably no more than eighteen in the picture. 

He pointed at the screen in the back. “I believe our guest is Clinton Francis Barton, twenty seven out of Waverly, Iowa. He’s got half a dozen aliases and probably a dozen that we don’t know about. He has a rough back history but he actually started in his current position before he was a decade old as a circus performer. He was billed as the World’s Greatest Marksman and was given the moniker Hawkeye. Sometime around sixteen to eighteen, he dropped off the grid to become a mercenary. He has no ‘confirmed’ kills to his name, plausible deniability is a worthwhile profession. Any pictures taken of him after this point are “unconfirmed” photos. They are either too grainy or only a partial identification.” He pressed a button and a few shots scrolled by on the screen, he was right, not a single photo was an obvious picture of Clint Barton. 

Coulson continued, “He is known for evaluating contracts before he takes them and has burned a few bridges in the process when he refuses to take contracts. He hit SHIELD’s radar five years ago when he refused a contract to take out one Anthony Stark.”

“What!?” Tony roared shooting to his feet. “He was supposed to off me!?”

Coulson nodded. “We have evidence that ties Obadiah Stane to contacting the mercenary known as Hawkeye. He was offered the contract but did refuse it for unknown reasons. By the time this information was relayed to us by local authorities, nearly a year later, you had already been captured in Afghanistan.”

Tony went silent. 

“Hawkeye has eluded SHIELD capture on several occasions, including capture by Black Widow.”

Natasha shot to her feet now. “I did not have adequate time! You pulled me off that op before I’d even had a shot.”

“You had nearly three weeks, Widow, and yes, you needed more time,” he forestalled her argument. “But I needed you to come back to help stop an alien army. We squeezed through that by the skin of our teeth. If Johnny Storm hadn’t shown up...” The group cringed at the idea. 

He held up a hand to stop her coming rant, continuing on in his conversation. “As far as we know, he’s never taken out what could be considered an ‘innocent’ party and is, at this time, considered a future potential asset.”

“So what you’re saying is ‘be nice to the new boy so we can keep him to shoot at things’.” Tony smirked.

“Not in so many words, but yes,” Coulson humored him.

Suddenly, cell phones buzzed. “So much for being nice,” Coulson said, looking down at his phone. “Barton is missing from his room.”

“Shit,” Steve swore, shooting out of his seat. 

>>>>>\----------------->

They had searched high and low, lockdown had secured every level and cameras were scanning for facial recognition but they would swear Barton had jumped off the Helicarrier. 

“He probably wouldn’t have survived the fall anyway,” Tony concluded. “Did we make sure he didn’t take a helicopter or something?”

Coulson snorted. 

“Vents. He hid in the vents at the Hydra base,” Natasha said suddenly. “Do we have facial recognition cameras in the vents?” 

“Fuck!” Fury cursed. 

>>>>>\----------------->

“You know,” Clint called, as Natasha’s red head appeared out of the vent he had come out of nearly three hours earlier, “I thought this would be much quicker.”

She pressed a finger to her communicator, “I have him.” Without waiting for a response she took it out, then sat down beside Clint, taking one of his yogurts, nearly shoving him off the heating and air conditioning unit when he tried to take it back. 

“That’s my yogurt!” he scowled. “I had to scope out the kitchen for twenty minutes AND time out the cameras.”

She shrugged, using her finger as a spoon. “Lemon, good choice.”

They sat in silence for a long few moments, idly eating yogurt. “Why’d you run?” she began.

“I didn’t run, I was in a vent. That’s a no running spot. Sneaky Merc: 101, I’ll give you some lessons.” He paused for a few minutes. “So… this is either the biggest ass building I’ve ever been in or something is fishy. Anyway, I was hungry and the nurse threatened to handcuff me to the bed if I didn’t stop bitching. So I went sight-seeing.” He shrugged and licked out his yogurt cup. 

She would never admit it but she had to concentrate to hold off her smile. When she could contain her laughter she looked at him, “Coulson is pissed.”

He shrugged back at her. “I didn’t think he had that range of emotion.”

“Oh, he does, he just doesn’t show it.” She looked into her half empty cup. “Can we head back now?”

Clint nodded. “Sure, as long as I can bring the yogurt. I’ve been waiting thirty minutes for these things to get cold.” He pulled the cups away from the refrigeration unit and carefully slid back towards the vent that lead to medical. 

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered. 

Natasha followed on his heels, watching him as he slid down the vent. He paused before he made it to the vent exit. 

“You know, I’m better at this sneaky-sneaky shit than you. I didn’t think I would be,” he smiled back at her as he moved the vent. 

She glared daggers. “You. Are. Not!”

He winked at her, “I so am.” And he slid out of the vent, unresisting when the SHIELD agents cuffed him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Mr. Barton,” Coulson addressed him as the archer's arms were pulled behind his back.

“Agent Coulson,” Clint answered as an agent took his snack. “Hey! Those are my fucking yogurts!”

Natasha held up the knife she had taken out of his sock. “That was for protection. You have rats in those vents. Giant ass rats… Not that I would kill them, I like rats.”

Coulson forcibly kept his eyes from rolling in his head. “Stolen from SHIELD kitchens. Don’t bother cuffing him Agent Anderson.”

“Yeah, Anderson!” he mocked. “Here are your cuffs.” He had managed to pick the locks already. The agent fumed as he stuffed his cuffs back into his pocket.

Clint took back his yogurts and followed after Coulson as he flipped off Anderson. 

When the three of them were in the elevator alone, he changed his tone. “Your nurse said I couldn’t have any food until you guys gave the okay. So I just went looking. I didn’t think the kitchen would be so far. And then there was lemon yogurt, which is hard to find, and everything kind of got confusing after that.”

The door opened before they could further the conversation. 

“Creeper!” Tony greeted from down the hall, striding towards him. Steve and Thor following in his wake. “Where did you go?”

“Yogurt run!” he exclaimed brightly, holding the cups up. 

Thor nodded solemnly. “I too have gone hunting for yogurt, the frozen kind normally. We have been searching for you for many hours though.”

“I had to find a way to get them colder. I like really cold yogurt and then I figured I would give Widow here another shot at bringing me in.”

She looked over at him, glaring darkly. “Excuse me? I didn’t need another shot. I would’ve brought you in.”

“In Russia? I knew you were there… you looked really hot in that black dress, really emphasized your boobs.” He winked. “I can’t believe those idiots willingly got in the car with you… even though you were in the trunk.”

“I had a bead on you,” she hissed. 

He rolled his eyes. “You saw me once! Through a scope! That doesn’t count. Interrogating my ex-employer was not going to help you either. Luchkov is an idiot.”

She glared harder. “I could’ve taken you out.”

“Mmhm. Except considering SHIELD’s rep in the field you were sent to bring me in, not take me out. Otherwise the other two teams before you would have tried to take me out. If it makes you feel any better, I was avoiding getting too close to you because I was pretty sure you could kick my ass.”

She smiled at him then, but it was anything but friendly. “I’m pretty sure you’re right.”

He was only slightly surprised when she swept his legs and he was left staring at the ceiling, winded. “And call me Natasha,” she ordered as she walked away. 

Tony and Thor stepped into his view and stared. 

“What a woman,” Clint sighed with a smile. 

>>>>>\----------------->

He sat down in the hardest chair known to man and waited. And waited. And waited. The room was painfully bright, the white walls reflecting light, and he was getting impatient, he estimated it had been over two hours and the sugar from the pudding cups was wearing off. 

When Coulson stepped in, he gave him his biggest smirk to hide the constant blinking he couldn’t stop. He idly wondered if the room could get any brighter, it may as well have been located on the sun. 

“Can I get you anything?” Coulson asked, pleasantly. 

Clint’s guard came up. “Nope, I’m good.” He slouched further into the seat, looking at the floor. 

“Comfortable?” 

The blonde nodded, “Fine.” 

“Okay then, let’s get started.” Coulson sat down in the chair across from him. He opened a file and Clint’s eyes shuttered and he leaned back in the chair farther. Angry. 

“Problem?” Coulson asked. 

Clint’s fingers gripped the edge of the table. He concentrated on releasing them one by one, ignoring Coulson’s bland look. He had never seen those photos before but remembered when some of them had been taken. Taken at ages 3, 5, 7, and 8 by the Iowa Child Welfare and Protective Services. Sure, he’d been beaten more often then that but the ones that had warranted him having to visit a hospital and actually have a nurse report it had only been four times. Each time it had been a degrading experience, a parade of police, welfare agents, and hospital staff, followed up by flash photo after flash photo. 

It might have been worth it if it had ended in his situation changing. His dad had skated out of it both times while his mother just agreed with everything his father said, his foster mom at seven had claimed he was uncoordinated while her biological son plotted more ways to kick the crap out of him. Barney had just told him to shut up and keep his head down, smacking him to reinforce the idea. He had bounced from foster home to foster home, some good and some bad. At nine, his foster father had simply agreed to have the boy removed from his home after a mysterious ‘accident’. There was no family to complain about Clint’s treatment and child services were willing to let it rest. Four months later he had been on his way to the circus. 

Clint shrugged it off. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

Coulson pretended to examine the file, flipping through the reports without really looking. “Interesting childhood.”

“You could say that,” he said easily. 

“I haven’t really had much of a chance to read this part of your file. When you were brought to my attention I admit to focusing on your career as a mercenary. Your parents are dead? Your brother?”

The blonde stood up, pacing a bit. “Let me give you the short version: Born. Parents sucked. Got taller. Parents really sucked. Went to school. Turns out I’m stupid. Parents died. Foster system sucked. Went to circus. Learned to shoot. Got in trouble. Brother left. Merc. Captured. End.”

“That’s quite the story,” Coulson said after a long minute. 

The other man grunted in answer. 

“Anything else you’d like to add?”

Clint shook his head. So Clint sat and waited while Coulson calmly wrote, his hand fluidly writing pages of notes, filling in paperwork. He didn’t say a word. It was another half-hour of Clint watching the agent fill in box after box. He got to the bottom of he page, signed it and looked up at Clint.

“You’re sure you have nothing to add?”

Clint held it in as best he could but his anger was frothing, he was not known for his temper control and shot to his feet, slamming a hand on the table. “Yeah! I got shit ton to add! How about we turn these fucking lights down ‘cause I’m about to go blind?! My eyes are fucking going to pop out of my damn skull! My fucking aids are killing me! And I need some damn shit ibuprofen. And I need a fuckin’ nap!”

Coulson opened his mouth but closed it when Clint continued, “I’M. NOT. FUCKING. FINISHED.” He punctuated each word with a slam of his fist on the table “I am starving! And I want my fucking yogurts back! Damn it all to hell! At least in prison I’ll get 3 squares! I barely got a fucking half of a square here and I’ve been here too many DAMN FUCKING hours! And I’m FUCKING pissed!” 

He picked up the table and threw it, papers scattered as it fell into a wall, one leg snapping off. 

He heaved a sigh and tossed himself back in his chair as the lights dimmed and he ran out of steam. 

“Well, that was quite the spiel.”

“That’s it?” Clint questioned, his body tensed. He had been prepared for Coulson to wave a few extra agents in to handcuff him. 

The agent nodded. “You’ve eaten half a sandwich, soup, some Gatorade, and four containers of yogurt in a little less than two weeks. You were bound to get angry.”

“…Oh.”

Agent Coulson closed the folder still in his hand. “Can I interest you in a lasagna in your room?”

The blonde contemplated that for a moment. Stunned. “Sounds… good?”

>>>>>\----------------->


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is really not as angsty as it appears. It is definitely a bit OOC but it was a total impulse story. ;) Yes, I realize in this bit Clint is very trusting of Steve but who wouldn't be??? ;)

Back in Clint’s room he did have to explain his tenure with Hydra. He had managed to eat about a quarter of his lasagna before feeling a bit queasy and instead sipping at his Gatorade.

“I took a contract with them about a month back, an arms dealer that wasn’t paying up. I took him out, recovered his merchandise, delivered it to them across borders, and they were pleased. They wanted me to work exclusively with them, I said no… They weren’t pleased.”

Phil nodded, gesturing at him to continue.

“They managed to get the drop on me about a week after my refusal; they blew three buildings in Odessa to take me down. They took my hearing aids. I managed to get out of the cell once or twice before they put on that damn collar. The collar meant they hit a button and I was down for the count. The food was drugged… just like the water on the Chinook.”

“I’ve apologized for that,” Phil interrupted.

“After I was drugged, happened twice, they pulled me out and asked me to work with them. When I stopped eating they just pulled me out and beat me anyway. I hid in the vent so that I could sleep without them getting me. When I got the collar off, I really couldn’t get a plan to get out. I wasn’t going to be able to overpower them. Then they threw in the freaking Avengers and I saw a way out and took it.”

Phil nodded and finished typing his notes.

“Enjoy your Gatorade, Mr. Barton.”

>>>>>\----------------->

Clint hated sleeping in an unguarded space, which explained why he was asleep in the shower, the door wedged shut with a boot and some towels. He was fairly comfortable with all his blankets piled inside. He had taken out one hearing aide to give his ear canals a rest.

A faint tap on the door woke him up and he pried it open to peer out with one eye. Coulson stood on the other side, a pleasant smile and eggs greeted him.

“How do you feel about eggs, turkey bacon, and an English muffin?”

He squinted at the plate. “Turkey bacon sucks.”

“I know. There was no other option.”

“Is there cheese on the eggs?”

“Of course.”

Clint pushed the door open and dragged his blanket and pillow back into his room. He took the plate with wiggly fingers putting all the ingredients into the English muffin for a mock breakfast sandwich, taking a huge bite. He even had banana yogurt.

Coulson sat down and opened up his tablet. “Please, do chew. I’ll never be able to explain to Director Fury how our future asset choked to death on his food.”

After Clint, literally choked down his latest bite, he opened his mouth, half chewed food still visible, “I’m a future asset?”

“Provided you can learn some manners and learn to behave in the house, I will agree with Mr. Stark’s proposal that we “keep you”.”

He took a swig of his Gatorade. “So, if I piss on the carpet, I’m out?”

The agent nodded. “More or less, yes. There will be a training period. Escaping medical, stealing yogurt cups, and sitting on top of the air conditioning unit for a few hours would be considered pissing on the carpet.”

“We’ll have to talk terms. What happens if I piss on the carpet too many times?”

Coulson huffed a big breath. “You’ll be incarcerated for the crimes you are believed to have committed. Whether we have evidence or not.”

“So, for helping to pull your people out of a Hydra base, I’m not getting much of a reward.”

“Your reward is not being instantly incarcerated and being offered a second chance.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Some reward.”

>>>>>\----------------->

Steve came around at noon with lunch for them, as well as a few yogurt cups, granola, and Gatorade. “I figured you should have some reserves in your room. I get hungry a lot too.”

“Thanks,” Clint said, smuggling the yogurt behind his side table.

Steve, and Clint was still getting over being allowed to call Captain America “Steve”, pulled his own sandwich out of his pocket.

“Jelly sandwich,” he said, holding it up. “Wanna’ trade?”

“What type of bread?”

“Wheat.”

“Jelly?”

“Uh… peach. Sorry.” Steve shrugged, Tony had introduced it to him and he had fallen in love.

Clint shrugged. “Love peach. I have turkey… Still want to trade?”

Steve handed over his sandwich wordlessly and Clint handed him the plate.

“So,” Steve began as he bit into the sandwich. “Tony said you were meeting with the director today. Well, Tony hacked the Director’s day planner and said that you were scheduled to meet with him. I think he took out the name Barton and put in Creeper. Sorry.”

“And?” Clint wondered where this was going.

“Just wanted to know what you were thinking.”

He shrugged again, “Lots of things. Mostly about Fritos…”

>>>>>\----------------->

Eventually, Clint was escorted to a large room by several equally large men, he idly wondered if he was supposed to be intimidated. He had gone toe-to-toe with goons twice their size and come out on top more than once. SHIELD had to know this.

He laughed when they cuffed him to the chair. Really? He was in a room with the supposed baddest ass in this building and Captain America. He winked at Agent Coulson when the cuffs tightened around his wrists.

“You know, when the cuffs come out I usually ask for dinner first.”

Coulson nodded at him, looking down at the papers in front of him. He couldn’t see it directly but he was sure the agent’s lips were curling, just on the ends.

A man in a long black trench swept in just then, the Director he assumed. “Stop smiling, Agent Coulson,” he said in a deep rumble.

When the other man looked up, his face was straight, “I don’t smile, sir.”

“Not in your default user settings?” Clint wondered aloud.

Coulson raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sure you have figured out that I am Director Fury of SHIELD. You’ve met Agent Coulson and Captain Rogers. It’s already been explained to you what your options are. One: You’re incarcerated for the crimes the US Government and Interpol can pin on you. Two: You stay with SHIELD we work to get your history cleared, that process will take several years and several good faith gestures from you. We use your eyes and you’re allowed to act as a mildly normal citizen of the United States. You piss on option two and option one becomes the only option. I will not hesitate to send you to prison… for a very long time. You’ve had your time to think it over.”

Clint’s eyes darted around the room naturally. Cataloging facial expressions and gestures others took as movement and he took as showing what they were thinking. Rogers, the perpetual Boy Scout, was hopeful, if a little uneasy. Fury was impatient, frustrated by something. Goons were bored but alert, watching his hands carefully. Coulson, though, Coulson was blank. His face set in a pleasant mask. The folder not so hidden in his briefcase was a contract. He obviously was expecting him to agree.

“I need more details. Will I be locked up when I’m not being “useful”? Will I be paid? Where will I have to stay? How long am I in your debt?”

Coulson took over now. “You will not be locked up, provided you are not breaking any laws. If you violate SHIELD’s regulations you will be treated like every other agent of SHIELD. You will be paid, the same as a starting agent and given pay raises based on performance and years of service. You will stay at a SHIELD training facility until such a time, as you are proven reliable. Barracks will be your option there. During training we will assess your education, we realize you are understandably deficient in that department and we will work around it. After you have finished training you will be given quarters at whatever base we choose, it could be the Arctic or London.”

“What about food? Clothes?”

The older man’s eyes flickered, surprise with a trace of sadness. But it vanished, no one else noticed. “You will be provided meals at whatever SHIELD base you are at. All bases and facilities have kitchens. You are expected to eat healthily but food is unlimited during meal times. Medical will examine you monthly, if not more so, depending on your activity status. You will be provided SHIELD issue clothes for training and a uniform. Deprivation of necessities is not a SHIELD standard, even in punishment.”

Clint nodded, looking at his knees for a moment before answering. “Where do I sign?” he asked with a grin.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deployed.

Clint flinched as the camera flashed for what felt like the hundredth time. He was in a pair of hide nothing tight-y whiteys in a subzero room. They were cataloguing marks and injuries, both for medical purposes and for identification later. It reminded him of the times he had been interviewed by CPS and the invasiveness of it all. He had already had his teeth poked and his gums were really sore and the left side of the jaw was still numb. 

A slight knock on the door announced Coulson’s entrance into the room. The older man pushed a smoothie into his hands. 

“I heard you had the dentist this morning.”

“You mean you got a memo that I bit the dentist… but he deserved it!”

Coulson tried to hide his smile with a cough but just barely. “Yes, that memo did cross my desk. I have dealt with that particular dentist before, he’s not a pleasant man, but he was the only one available with a day’s notice.”

Clint sipped his smoothie, orange and banana. He had settled it in his mind that if Coulson were trying to drug him again he really wouldn’t do it with a smoothie, probably an injector in the neck. 

Clint wiped his mouth when he drooled a bit. “I think he gave me more Novocain than I needed. It’s been hours and my lips are still numb. My tongue feels like it’s asleep.” 

“I can tell, you’re slurring your speech a bit. Better more Novocain then less.”

“Sorry,” Clint said, as a little bit of smoothie slipped down his jaw and across his chest. “Shit… shit, sorry.”

The older man handed Clint a gauze pad to wipe up. Internally, the older man thought it was adorable. The miles of exposed skin, scarred and freckled was nearly irresistible. He wanted to kiss his shoulder, where a trail of freckles was interrupted by what looked like a few old cigarette burns. 

Clint was thin; the nobs of his spine protruded slightly and his ribs were just a shade too visible. He had worked himself down to a very lean figure, too lean by Phil’s estimates. Judging by the doctor’s mumblings about calories and nutrition he was correct. 

“Can my modeling session be over already? I’m sexy, we get it,” Clint grumbled, as yet another photograph was taken of a long scar on his foot. 

“A few more, turn around please?” the nurse answered noting things on her chart. Clint sighed, rolling his eyes at Coulson before turning his back and facing Coulson. 

The flash went off, again and again and even Coulson was starting to get tired of the idle standing and listening to the camera click. The nurse grasped Clint’s elbow and Coulson flew forward, restraining Clint as he turned to take down the nurse and with her own clipboard.

“Whoa. Whoa.” Phil tried to calm the sudden tension in the room, tightening his arms around Clint’s shoulders, whether to secure him or assure him that he was safe he wasn’t sure. The archer had tried to throw him but he had settled his weight in anticipation, he was fortunate Clint stopped his attack.

Clint was frozen, glaring at the nurse. “Don’ never touch me,” he said with a dark voice. 

Phil remained calm, his arms still locked around the archer. “How about we take a break doctor and finish this in an hour? Agent Barton needs a break.”

Doctor Fletcher and the nurse had backed towards the door already. “I think we’re finished here anyway. I’ll send you my notes Agent Coulson.”

The door closed with a soft click. “You going to swing on me if I let you go?”

“No.”

He let Clint go, taking a few long steps out of the way, Clint turned back to him with a wry look. He wiped a bit of drool off his chin. “I think you’re going to need a new smoothie.” The original was splattered on the floor. 

“How about you get dressed and I’ll show you where the kitchens are? From outside of the vents this time.” Clint pulled on track pants and another SHIELD sweatshirt before following Phil out. 

A sad-puppy look on Clint’s face and a pleasant smile from Coulson got them a second smoothie from the kitchen staff before Phil showed Clint to his office. 

“While I’m your handler you’ll work with me here…” Clint had jumped on to the back of the chair in the tiny office to stare at the window. 

“We’re on a plane?!” he exclaimed. SHIELD had not informed Clint about his current location but the younger man had had his suspicions.

Phil shrugged. “It’s called the Helicarrier, part helicopter, part aircraft carrier.”

The other man was visibly stunned, standing up to look down through the window, his face pressed to the glass. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

“Most people haven’t.”

The agent shuffled through a few of his papers before coming up with the booklets he had originally been given. “We will be landing tomorrow. I would like to get some tests out of the way if you have the time.”

“All I have is time, Coulson,” Clint said, finally peeling himself away from a window to flop down on a chair. 

He handed Clint a book, ignoring the younger man’s instant frown. “There’s evidence of my stupidity in my school records, no need to hand out the books.”

Phil frowned, sitting in the chair next to Clint. “I would like to assess your skills myself if you don’t mind.” 

Clint sighed, flipping open the pages of the book. He glared at the book for a second before staring hard at Phil. Phil didn’t flinch, his face placid as he waited. Phil didn’t grow impatient, he didn’t let his face show annoyance, he just waited. 

He must have passed some sort of test because Clint sighed and sat up, looking at the words on the page in front of him and started to read, he stumbled over a few words but completed the book. Phil passed him another book and while he struggled a bit more he only needed two words to finish. “

“There was con… fuss…” He frowned, finger pacing beneath the word. 

“That’s ‘confusion’,” Phil pointed out gently. 

Clint plowed on, “The ‘government’ came up to…”

“That’s ‘governor’,” Phil corrected again.

He nodded, “That makes more sense…The governor came up to the boys…” He continued on, mis-queuing on words like “community,” “journal,” and “vacation.” Coulson was kind enough to gently correct him before allowing him to continue. 

“Are you sure that word is “whole”? ‘Cause, I’ve seen the word “asshole” a lot and it doesn’t have the ‘w’ in it.” Clint questioned as he finished the book. 

Phil smiled, “Yes, there are two different words, they’re homophones.”

“’Homo’-phones?” Clint repeated with a laugh. 

Phil rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop his laugh too. “Such a grown up. Homophones are words that are spelled differently but sound the same.”

Clint chuckled anyway. “So these tests indicate your reading level and we can get started with your tutor. You will have a tutor from SHIELD work with you while we are assessing you.”

“I don’t want a tutor,” Clint growled. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I have a job, I will help when I can though.”

The younger man looked at the book. “What’s my grade level?”

“You are about at a 5th grade reading level,” Phil told him with no inflection in his voice. “You can get away with reading most things.”

“Awesome,” Clint muttered in a dark tone. 

>>>>>\----------------->

Clint spent the next few weeks training with SHIELD and sleeping in the bathroom. He loved being able to show off his athleticism, none of the baby agents had a hope in hell of keeping up with him. He always could climb with the best of them. 

Hang from one arm? Not a problem. Balance on one foot on a pole? Easy. Back flip to land on a balance beam? Nothing to it. Pay attention to any agent but Coulson? Impossible. 

He met a lot of “senior agents” as they were called but none of them held a candle to Coulson’s pure competence. Clint internally admitted that he had a bit of fascination with Coulson, ever since he had seen that calm badass standing beside a Chinook while Thor and Hulk destroyed an AIM facility in the distance, he knew the man was something else. Coulson had a confidence about him that forced Clint to follow his lead. Sitwell was good but spent too much time thinking. Maria Hill glared too much. Sanchez was nice but too goofy to make Clint trust him. Of course, Coulson drugging him was not hot. 

When he started to train next to the likes of Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, the confidence he had built was doused with a healthy dose of humility. Natasha and Steve were faster. He was craftier. Pound for pound they could outfight him but he could outmaneuver them and he relied upon that. When he found out Natasha was enhanced too, she had healed too quickly after a cut to the head, he was kind of disappointed at being the only “mortal” amongst them. He had assumed he could join the Avengers but if they were all supers he had nothing to offer. 

His progress with Coulson was remarkable, if he did say so himself. Coulson had said he just needed time and exposure to new words and new books to adapt. He spent a lot of time reading with Coulson in his office. His tutor pulled him to do math and science with him but reading and writing were mostly independent lessons. He read a lot of history books and wrote answers out. He handed them over to Coulson. Clint could tell when Coulson was pleased when the edges of his lips pinched, just a little. When Clint had messed up his eyes would widen, just a bit. If you watched Coulson’s face long enough you could learn to read him. They were just flashes but they were enough for Clint to start reading the older man. 

One day he was patiently parsing together a fifth grade history book when Coulson’s phone went off, interrupting his perfect concentration. 

“Sir?” Coulson answered. “Okay… Yes. I’ll get Stark… Four minutes… Six minutes until the team lands… Yes.” He clicked the phone shut, straightening his tie as he stood. “Clint, your gear is being loaded onto the jet. You’re not officially being deployed but this will be a good training run to watch how the team works. Let’s go.”

Clint’s cock hardened a bit when he watched Coulson check his weapon before re-holstering and heading for the jet shouting orders into his phone, Clint followed in his wake. 

“The Avengers are en route, Iron Man and Thor are four minutes out and Widow, Hulk, and the Captain five minutes.” They were stepping on board the jet and the second the back hatch closed they were air born, streaking towards the fight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not in LOVE with how this chapter came out but this entire story kind of feels that way. It was a whim story.
> 
> Warnings: talk of an abusive partner

The scene Clint was privy too once the jet landed on an empty city street was right out of a 50’s B-grade horror movie. It was a giant cricket… or maybe a grasshopper. He had never seen one this big. It’s body vibrated and a high-pitched creaking shattered windows overhead, raining glass down over their heads. He grabbed Coulson and pushed him beneath a strong looking eave to stop the glass. 

Then he saw a third cricket turning onto the street, it was easily four stories tall and three times as long as a school bus. He was more frightened than he was willing to admit. This one squeaked and more windows exploded. He didn’t think much of it until it seemed to pause, considering them beneath the eaves. Its pincers clicked near its mouth and it began to approach, quicker and intent on them. 

Clint raised his bow and fired, praying that this thing Tony had set him up with actually worked in live-action. He had fired it at the range and while practicing with the team but this was real. The arrow pinged off the bug’s exoskeleton, landing uselessly on the ground. Damn, those arrows were rated to pierce brick. He discharged the explosive anyway but it barely shook the giant bug. 

He fired again, hitting the button just before the arrow made contact, exploding in the bug’s face. That just angered the cricket and it charged, Clint fired again, into its open mouth. It exploded and a pincer and part of its jaw fell off. It moaned in distress and Clint felt pity for the poor creature. It was probably frightened. He used rapid fire, trying to end the bug as quickly as possible. Finally, the arrow flew into the bug’s body, or thorax as the science book told him, and the creature collapsed, twitching before relaxing. 

He returned to Coulson, still standing calmly with his gun drawn in an alleyway. Coulson had his pinched-pleased mouth look. 

“That was… acceptable, Agent Barton.”

After that Clint was approved for “field work” with the team, though he was still housed on base with SHIELD operatives. Tony had threatened to kidnap him a few times but hadn’t followed through. 

It took Phil taking out an insurgent holding Clint hostage for the blonde to really began to return the trust the older man gave him. He had had a gun to his head and he could hear the ground support scrambling to form a plan to recover him. Before he knew it his keeper shouted and then collapsed on him. He pushed the dead body off of himself and climbed to his feet, raising one eyebrow at Coulson standing on the edge of the roof.

“Are you all right, Agent Barton?”

Clint could only nod back at him. Coulson had not only but himself in the line of fire but had shot another man to recover him. He could hear Hill berating Coulson across the com line about risk management and assessment of situations. Coulson smirked at him and turned to climb back down the fire escape. Clint followed on his heels. 

After review of his next few performances as a field agent, Fury himself pushed Clint until he was officially an Avenger. 

Once the announcement was made, Clint was surprised to see Coulson sporting his “nervous but trying to be calm” look, his eyes were twitchy and he kept smoothing his tie. He wanted to talk or ask Clint something but he didn’t know what. He could see from the corner of his eye that Coulson would open his mouth but then close it and look away quickly. He stayed silent, hoping Coulson would let it out. 

It took more days than he thought. 

He was halfway through his book on the Manhattan Project, he was hoping to have Bruce explain to him some of the finer points, when he got hungry and went to grab lunch. Coulson almost never took lunch unless someone brought it to him, but the older man had made time to take Clint down to the mess hall when he was first on base and trying to put on weight. Though he did usually join Clint for dinner and occasionally breakfast coffee. 

Why did he dine with his handler most people ask? …Because most of the other agents appeared to not like him very much. He had tried, damn it. He had. But a combination of a vile Agent Anderson, a reputation for shooting anything that moved, being on a hair trigger psychologically, and being fast tracked past all the agents straight to working with the Avengers Initiative had doomed him socially. Apparently, being put in with the Avengers after only a few weeks was going to piss some people off. To be fair, he hadn’t helped his reputation by taking pot shots at some bad mouthing junior agents on the range. To be even more fair, he hadn’t actually hit them. 

He grabbed a general sandwich for himself, had them make a sandwich custom to Coulson’s specifications, and grabbed the appropriate sides for both of them. He made Coulson a cup of hot cappuccino to go with his sandwich, he thought it was weird but the man loved cappuccinos with sweetener to go with most of his meals. He had a serious sweet tooth. Clint on the other hand would eat anything not nailed down. 

Quietly he reentered Coulson’s office and set his food down in front of him, off to the side but in a noticeable area. 

He tucked into his own food, he loved macaroni and cheese and the base kitchen always had some. Always. It was delicious. He didn’t look up until he heard Coulson end his conversation and begin unwrapping his food, before it went very quiet. 

Coulson wasn’t eating, but staring at his food, lost in thought. 

“Something wrong?” Clint questioned. He had gotten everything right… right?”

“No… just, potato salad and macaroni salad mixed together, turkey and salami sandwich, no onions or mayonnaise, extra mustard and pickles on wheat, snicker doodle cookie, and a cappuccino with two sweeteners.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah… You on a diet or something?”

“Not many people can get that order right, especially if I’ve never told them it,” Coulson started. 

The blonde shrugged. “It’s hard not to hear a man you stand next to in the lunch line everyday.”

“Do you want to go out sometime?” Coulson asked abruptly. Clint nearly spewed mac and cheese everywhere but managed to swallow it instead. 

Choking, he asked, “Like a date?”

“Yes, if you want. If you don’t want a date, I will take dinner with a close friend.”

The younger man paused and thought, not normally his strong suit but he did it on occasion. He was more of a fly by the seat of your pants person. “Sure,” Clint agreed. 

“Great, I’ll pick you up from your quarters this evening. Six tonight. Casual dress.”

“Cool.” Clint bobbed his head before turning back to his food and his book. They spent the rest of the afternoon that way until Clint’s time at the range was approaching and left with a graceful head nod. 

>>>>>\----------------->

That night the food was great, Coulson was beyond polite and funny, the movie afterwards was action packed. But the sex afterwards was fantastic. 

In the cab on the way to SHIELD headquarters, Clint had made his move, sliding close to Coulson and kissing him gently, the second kiss was rougher, and the third electric. Coulson had seemed to go from zero to sixty when Clint bit his lip, sucking on it between his teeth. He had pushed Clint against the cab door, turning his head just long enough to order the cabby to drive them to another address. 

He felt the hard press of Coulson’s erection against his thigh and nearly moaned aloud. He was finally going to get some relief after nearly a year of only for his hand for company, he was over the moon. 

The older man tossed a few bills at the cabby before dragging Clint towards a sweet little apartment. He unlocked the door and Clint slipped inside, automatically noting the fire escape, he didn’t get much time to look around before Coulson had gently maneuvered him back towards a bookshelf. Coulson was a few inches taller than him and took advantage of it, making Clint look up at him to kiss him. 

“Want something to drink?” Coulson asked, finally pulling away.

Clint was startled. They weren’t going straight to the sex? People always wanted sex first. Maybe Coulson needed to be drunk to do this. “Uh… I guess, if you do.”

“Water? Beer? Soda?” Coulson offered, walking towards the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”

Clint was totally confused now. Was this some sort of test? Did Coulson do this regularly? “Water’s fine,” he called. He plopped down on the couch to wait for Phil’s return. 

Phil handed him a bottle of water and he checked the cap before offering Coulson a sardonic smile. “Gotta check my water from now on. Roofies.”

“I promise, I don’t plan to be “roofie-ing” you like that again.”

The younger man laughed. “I know. I’m kind of a sure thing… So what’s this all about?” He gestured around the room and pointed at Coulson. 

“Um, I thought that was fairly clear,” Coulson started. “If it’s not we need to have a much longer discussion than I anticipated.”

“Okay. Is this something you do with new agents? Some kind of test? I thought we were coming here to… you know, bang, but that’s not… I don’t know.”

Coulson’s face flickered, before settling into an unknown expression, the one he had had when Clint had mentioned food as part of his contract. Frustrated? Upset? Angry? 

Phil set his water down before leaning forward. “This is a date. This is not something I do with other agents. Ever. I had to fill out paperwork to go out with you. This is not a test. I was hoping to “bang” to use your own words, but maybe this is too fast. If you don’t want to answer this question it’s fine. Right now, I’m your date, not your superior officer. How many partners have you had?”

“In sex?” 

Phil nodded with no comment. 

“I don’t know. Like six? Not many people want to have sex with a stupid carnie-hit man. I don’t exactly have time for the clubs. Last guy was like a year ago; he was pretty high most of the time. He liked to hit.” Clint didn’t know why he said the last line, it was impulsive and stupid. Coulson would think he was weak. 

Phil still looked upset but he gave Clint a half assed smile anyway. “First off, you’re not stupid. SHIELD doesn’t accept stupid agents… except Anderson and he’s probationary. Six people are still plenty of sexual partners. It’s not a contest…”

“Certainly not one I’m winning,” Clint interrupted. 

“… And I’m sorry your last partner hit you. I don’t believe in hitting partners. It’s a sign of weakness.”

“And what about the guy that takes the hitting?”

“Did he start hitting you right away?” Clint shook his head, Ryan had built up to it, a few days after their first month together he had slapped Clint for the first time. Sure, he’d been yelling at him since week one but hitting hadn’t happened for a while. 

“Did you have somewhere else to go?” 

Clint shook his head again. He’d been staying in Chicago for a job and after it had needed and the money dried up he had been forced to stay in place until he could get a hold of his contacts. He paid for a roommate and ended up getting an abusive boyfriend instead. 

“You’re not at fault. It’s his issues. Not yours… And I want his name later.”

Clint shrugged. This night had taken a weird turn. 

Coulson was not to be swayed; he turned to Clint and tugged the other man’s leg open. He gave Clint time to object before maneuvering between Clint’s thighs, sliding his hands down to settle on Clint’s hips.

Clint reached his arms up pulled Coulson firmly down on top of him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of smut... Be warned. Men loving on men. ;) Again, not great smut but smut nonetheless.

“God, yes,” Clint moaned as Phil nuzzled his neck. The older man rocked his hips against Clint, pressing their erections together. 

He pushed up Clint’s black shirt, pulling it off altogether. He had to admit Clint was a spectacular human being; his body could’ve been used to model the David. Phil suddenly felt very old and very fat. He was toned yes, but he did not have a six-pack like he used to have. 

“Be prepared,” Coulson warned Clint when he went to lift Coulson’s undershirt. “I’m not as young and fit as you.”

Clint laughed kindly. “If you were I’d want to know what you were doing in that office when I’m not there. I hope you’re not uh… doing this for my bod because I got tell you, I’m pretty scarred up once you see it in the daylight.”

“No, I’m not dating you for your body, though it is a pretty nice body. I’m more of a partner and less of a booty call.”

Clint howled with laughter. “You said booty call!” he cackled. 

Phil shut him up with a kiss, sealing his lips to the younger man’s. He turned Clint back into a pile of mush before tugging him up and towards the bedroom. Clint followed him lazily, letting the older man take him to bed. 

“It’s been a while,” Clint muttered when he tossed his cargo pants off the bed. 

“I’ll take care of you,” Phil reminded him. He spent a lot of time sucking on Clint’s neck, licking and nipping as he went. He was really focused on Clint’s trap muscles, stroking his arms down Clint’s thick biceps to his strong forearms. He kissed down Clint’s chest, pushing the other man down when he tried to reciprocate. 

He licked a pebbled nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Clint moaned louder than he anticipated, breathing heavily. Clint’s hands grabbed his head and he allowed Clint to revel in the sensation for a few minutes before he switched to the neglected nipple, nosing it before sucking it in as well. Clint spasmed as he took the other one in hand, stimulating them until he was sure Clint would come. 

“God, yes.”

“I’m guessing you like that?” Phil asked, teasing one nipple with his teeth. 

“A lot, never had someone do… that before.”

Phil moved down Clint’s body to his hard cock. Clint’s cock, like the rest of him was a work of art, thick and well formed, his balls drawn up tight in pleasure. Clint took a deep breath as he felt Coulson suck a ball at a time into his mouth. He was gentler than any of Clint’s other partners, most of the time they were rough but efficient. They took blowjobs as an act of aggression, not holding back teeth, where Phil seemed to savor it. 

“One minute, I need some stuff,” Coulson said. He laid a firm kiss on the inside of Clint’s thigh before getting up towards the bathroom. 

Clint took a minute to look around Coulson’s room. He chuckled when he saw a few Captain America posters; they were collector’s pieces, not children’s décor. Coulson came back and took his place between Clint’s legs with lube and condoms. 

“You okay with this?” Phil asked, his expression very serious. 

“Fine, good. It’s just… been a while, I can prep myself if you want.” He wouldn’t admit that he had done a bit of prepping prior to the date. That had saved him more than once. 

Phil gave him a kind smile. “I don’t mind.”

He mouthed Clint’s erection as he slid a finger behind him, teasing his entrance before pushing inside. Clint made sure to release his breath, relaxing. Coulson added a second finger as he started to suck Clint’s cockhead, he swallowed Clint to the root when he added a third and brushed his prostate. 

Clint pinched the base of his cock and gently pushed Coulson’s head away. “Going to cum. Sensitive.”

“How long is your refractory period?” When Clint just raised an eyebrow he changed his words. “How long until you can get it up again?”

“About twenty minutes,” he answered. 

“Let’s test that.” He pushed hard on Clint’s prostate as he sucked his cock in again, Clint came with a harsh groan that dissolved into desperate panting. 

Clint’s chest was heaving when Phil pulled his hands away, not wanting to turn this pleasure into pain by touching him while he was over sensitized. He laid down beside Clint, holding his head up with one hand as Clint came back to himself. He didn’t mention his own hard cock resting on Clint’s hip. 

“Wow,” Clint groaned, wiping his face with his hands. “We should… yeah. I tried to warn…”

Phil leaned down and kissed Clint quiet again. “We’re fine.”

“Do you want me to blow you?” Clint offered. 

“How about we talk for a few, wait for your… friend to come back, and then we can finish what we started?”

Clint nodded; he wasn’t sure where this was going now, “Sure.”

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” Phil asked suddenly, kissing Clint’s shoulder. 

“It’s been mentioned a time or two. My ass just won’t quit,” he winked and wiggled a bit.

“I’m not talking about your ass, though it is very nice. I’m talking about your eyes, Blue-grey, pretty. Just gorgeous.” Phil stroked the side of his face. “And so smart, just an incredible person.”

Clint felt his face heat; no one had ever called him gorgeous, parts of him, yes, but never his face. No had ever called him smart. Not even a little smart. He was getting uncomfortable with all the praise. Was he supposed to compliment Phil now? Did he say thank you? Clint wanted to change it back to something he knew how to handle. 

He kissed Phil’s palm, before pushing it down towards his cock. Phil gently stroked him, letting him come back on his own time. When he felt Clint start to thicken again he shifted over the other man, settling between his thighs again and spent a long few minutes teasing Clint’s nipples, plucking and sucking at them until the blonde squirmed. 

He pushed his fingers gently into Clint again, searching for his prostrate with careful fingers. He must’ve felt how ready Clint was because he rolled on the condom, stroking it with lube for a minute before guiding Clint’s legs to either side of his waist, rolling the man up a bit. 

“Tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable or need a minute.”

Clint nodded and he felt Phil hesitate for a second before pushing once, twice, and then shoving on the third push. Clint grunted at the sudden stretch, giving a strangled groan as Phil slid in the rest of the way. 

“Thank you,” Phil whispered as he settled inside Clint’s body. This act was not something he took for granted. He was not a bottom, though he did on occasion enjoy a thorough fucking. He realized the trust it took for a person to allow another person to invade their body. 

Clint though, just seemed to take it in stride as Phil set up a slow, firm pace. He angled his thrusts, smiling wickedly when Clint’s legs tightened around his hips as he groaned like had been shocked. Nailed it, Phil thought smugly. 

“Oh, God,” Clint moaned. “Never… damn…” 

“Come on, baby,” Phil murmured, he paused to brush Clint’s hair from his eyes. He leaned down to kiss the other man, inadvertently rubbing against Clint’s prostate again. 

He started to thrust again, kissing the arm Clint had on his shoulder as the younger man shuddered beneath him. 

Phil was close, so settled for a firm pace to drive Clint up a wall. Hitting his prostate, Clint’s legs flicked as he nailed his pleasure point again and again. The younger man’s eyes had rolled in his head a bit and Phil was feeling very confident in his prowess, until Clint purposefully clenched down on his cock. He grunted and paused to stave off an orgasm. 

He retaliated by stroking Clint towards an orgasm with a lube slick hand, until the man’s legs were holding him in a vice like grip, he was just on the brink of coming when Phil pulled his hand away.

He grabbed Clint’s hips and pulled him up, setting up a punishing pace as he held Clint still. “Stroke yourself, I want to see you cum,” he demanded.

Clint did as he asked, making full eye contact, putting on a bit of a show, rolling his hips and breathing deep, letting his chest flex and arm muscles bulge. 

“Oh, fuck,” Phil muttered. “S good, baby. Love this.”

“C’mon, Phil, harder, just a lil’ more,” Clint moaned, stroking his cock. He was so close, he felt like if he could just stretch a little more he’d be there. When Phil nearly folded him in half, dragging his cock across Clint’s prostate the younger man nearly screamed. Phil pushed his hands away from his cock, instead tweaking his nipples and Clint came like a rocket, clenching tightly around Phil’s cock. 

Phil held on though, he was so close. Only a few more thrusts until he pushed in one final time and groaned low in his chest. Clint was there to allow the older man to collapse on him, smiling languidly as he stroked through Phil’s thinning hair. 

Clint sighed, as Phil’s cock slipped from inside him. He was surprised when rather than hop off him and make some vague excuse, Phil removed his condom dumping it into a nearby tissue before turning into Clint’s arms. He kissed Clint’s arms, his neck, and finally his lips. 

“Shower?” Phil offered. “With me?”

“Sure.”

The shower itself was more of a standing room only shower but they didn’t mind standing pressed against the other. Soap ended up on the floor and they dissolved into giggles when Clint told Phil he’d get it but only because he was already lubed. They walked back out into Phil’s room. 

Clint seemed a bit off and Phil figured out the problem fairly quickly. The younger man was trying to figure out how to make a cool, calm exit. 

He towed Clint to bed with him. “Stay the night?” he offered. “We can do breakfast in the morning and I can drive you back.”

Clint relaxed, seemingly relieved. “Okay, sure.”

“If you want get uncomfortable and want to go sleep in the bathroom, there are extra blankets in the cupboard outside my room,” Phil said gently. 

The other man lay down on the bed and snuggled down. “I think I’ll be okay here.”

>>>>>\----------------->


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working on the relationship.

The morning rolled around with the beep of the alarm clock, Clint startled awake so hard he nearly flipped out of bed, his hands patting between the mattresses to searching for a weapon. Being that it was Coulson’s apartment, he came up with a gun sweeping the room. 

Phil was unflappable as ever, holding up hands calmly. “Sexy as that is, please put it down. I didn’t realize the alarm would startle you so bad.”

Clint sighed, flicking the safety back on and shoving the gun beneath the bed. He lay back down on the bed and snuggled beneath the blanket. “Sorry, I don’t usually have alarms in my room.”

“It’s fine,” Phil agreed. “I’m going to get up but feel free to lounge around a bit more. I’m an early riser. I’ll get breakfast started. There are some track pants that will fit you in the top drawer on the left and an extra toothbrush beneath the sink.” He leaned in to give Clint a swift kiss that turned into a lingering kiss. 

“If my ass wasn’t sore, I’d say let’s go for round two,” Clint yawned after he let Phil go.

Phil was instantly concerned. “Do you want me to check for tearing?”

“What?” Clint squeaked, flushing red. “No! I’m not bleeding; it’s just been a while. I’m fine!”

Phil shoved Clint’s shoulder before going on to find his pajamas for around the house. He ignored Clint’s wolf whistle as he strolled by. He sighed when the coffee started to trickle into his mug, the rich caffeine smell filling the kitchen. He stuck a mug under and loaded a new cup for Clint to have when he awoke. 

Clint staggered into the room about twenty minutes later, Coulson’s track pants were clinging to his hard thighs but Coulson had to stifle a laugh when he saw the pants puddling on the floor beneath his feet. 

“Shut up,” Clint mumbled. “You’re freakishly tall.” He took a long drink out of the cup Phil handed him, sighing as he pulled it away from his mouth. “Ahhh,” He popped his lips. “So good.”

“Eggs? Toast?” Phil offers, pulling out a pan. 

Clint nods silently, hopping up on the counter to let Coulson work around him. Clint was a little shocked to see how little time it took the man to pull together a breakfast. “Do you cook breakfast all the time?”

Phil shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.” A man had cooked for him. The most any of his other dates had done was split the take out with him. This was a big deal. Huge. How was he supposed to approach this now? Could he ask Phil? Did he ask Phil out this time? 

“I can see you thinking,” Phil began. “What are you thinking?”

Clint stuffed a chunk of banana in his mouth to avoid answering before shrugging. 

The older man chuckled a bit. “So you don’t want to talk, how about I talk? What do you think of another date?”

He nodded and shrugged.

“I’ll take that to mean it sounds like a good idea. Would you like to have sex again?”

Clint nodded more eagerly this time. 

“Good,” Phil finalized, thinking of a date.

Clint scratched behind one of his ears and only then did Phil remember the younger man’s hearing aids. “Did you wear those all night?” Coulson asked incredulously. 

“Yeah, course I did.”

Phil reached to touch Clint’s ears but pulled back as Clint subtly flinched out of the way. Okay, no touching his ears, Phil told himself. 

“That can’t be safe? Why didn’t you take them out?”

Clint shrugged, pushing more eggs onto his fork. “I never do. I always have at least one in.”

Phil frowned but dropped the subject, resuming breakfast. 

>>>>>\----------------->

They climbed into Phil’s car and drove towards SHIELD headquarters, there was really no way to do this gracefully and he had politely refused Clint’s offer to be dropped off a block from work so they would come in separately. It was not something Phil would do to anyone else so why would he start now?

A junior agent manning the gates did a poor job of hiding his shocked expression but allowed them in without a word. 

The pair entered the elevator and got coffee together as usual before Hawkeye went for training and Agent Coulson went to talk with the Director. Just another day in SHIELD. 

>>>>>\----------------->

“Gossip says you took Barton home last night…” Hill began without prompt after the morning meeting. 

Nick raised an eyebrow but somehow still seemed unsurprised. 

“Yes…and that’s the end of that discussion.”

>>>>>\----------------->

After that it just seemed natural for Clint to start following Coulson home at night. The first few times they went through the pretense of going to dinner first and falling into bed together. Then after a particularly trying day Phil suggested take-out at his place and Clint was all for it. When they went to bed without sex a few nights later Clint knew he was in deep, though he did offer. 

They had been kissing and having sex regularly for over a week when Clint finally had to ask. Coulson was his only friend, outside of his odd interactions with the Avengers, though he wasn’t sure if he was their friend yet. 

They were at lunch together now and Coulson had bought it for him. He worked up his courage before blurting, “Okay, so normally I’d ask someone else but since there is no one else to ask… are we dating? Like boyfriend-girlfriend dating?”

Phil finished his bite before putting his sandwich down, he looked at Coulson’s face… he was angry. He’d fucked up.

“Never mind. I just… When’s my tutor coming?” he asked, trying to change the subject. 

The older man now had on his patient face. “I want to answer the first question. And yes, we are dating, although I think we’re boyfriend-boyfriend. If you’d like to break up, I just need to know. You will not lose your position within SHIELD.”

“No, no, no. I just wanted to know…. If we were dating… ‘cause we hadn’t said it so, yeah. That’s the end of my questioning.”

Coulson seemed a bit befuddled (one of Clint’s new words) but went back to his sandwich.

>>>>>\----------------->

On one particular night, Clint and Phil were both exhausted when they dragged themselves in the door. They were silent as they rotated showering and making sandwiches. They didn’t exchange a single word until Phil had decided he was too tired to stay up another minute. He stood and kissed Clint. 

Clint obligingly followed him to bed, straddling Phil on the bed. He nuzzled Coulson’s neck even though he was too tired to really get in the mood. 

“You know…” Phil said around a yawn. “If you want sex tonight you’re going to have to use your hand. I’m exhausted. Feel free to think of me though.”

“Oh, okay,” Clint said, suppressing his own yawn. He flopped down beside Phil. This was the second night in a row they hadn’t had sex. He wondered if they were breaking up. 

Phil watched him out of one bleary eye. “You going to rub one out?” The older man yawned again.

He shrugged. “Not really into it.”

Phil raised an eyebrow but was too exhausted to do more; he filed it away for later. He wrapped an arm around Clint’s waist and fell asleep. 

In the morning Clint woke up and yawned, something was off and he was instantly alert. Once his mind had cleared he realized that he had lost his hearing aids in the night. Frantically he dug through the sheets, waking Coulson in the process. Phil’s lips moved but he couldn’t hear him. 

“My aids fell out,” he confessed. He couldn’t hear his own voice but he hoped the sounds made sense to Coulson. “I can’t find them,” he added. 

The older man nodded and sat up to help him look. He found one behind the mattress and he quickly fitted it back in. 

Coulson grabbed his hands when he went to search for the second. “It’s caught on your collar.”

“Thanks.” Clint pushed it back into his ear, flinching at the pressure that had resumed in his ear canal. 

“You really should not wear those all night, or at least take one out. You’re going to irritate your canals.” 

Clint shrugged, pulling on his underwear. “I can’t hear without them.”

Phil nodded patiently, “Yes, I understand but… I’m here.”

“I know but… yeah.”

The older man nodded. “Okay. Maybe one day. SHIELD is working on hearing aids that will be a little more hardy, meant for rugged wear and indistinguishable from you ear… actually Stark said he was putting his finger in that pie.”

“Then my aids will probably make running commentary on the conversations going on around me,” Clint laughed. 

“True.” 

Clint ducked into the bathroom before Phil and went to try his hand at breakfast. He made toast, eggs, and coffee, only destroying four eggs before he got it right. 

Phil slid behind Clint as the man went to pour a cup of coffee and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s chest, resting his chin on top of Clint’s head, though he could just barely do it. 

“Yes, you’re taller than me… bravo.” His voice was dry and Phil laughed, kissing Clint on the temple.

They were on their way to the SHIELD base when their phones exploded in noise. “Barton.” Clint answered as Phil did the same. 

“Barton. Your gear is on the bird, get on transport eighteen, Cap, Widow, and Banner will join you. You’ll be briefed on board.”

The phone turned off before he could answer, Coulson’s conversation went on for longer as Clint accelerated the car towards the SHIELD base. 

As they turned the car towards the base, Clint smiled over at Phil. “You know? Considering I’m not even an Avenger yet, I’m getting deployed a lot.”

“Well… you catch on quick. Once we can get you confirmed as a specialist it’ll make things easier. Right now, you are considered a probationary asset.”

“Probationary ass… et,” Clint said around a smile. 

The jets were already warming up as they approached, Phil stood at the back hatch of his jet as it prepared for takeoff. 

“Clint?!” he yelled over the roar of the engines. “Tortellini for dinner?”

“Sounds good!” Clint shouted back just as the jet began to lift and turn towards the battlefield.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is not my favorite story but I deem it acceptable. I do apologize for the shoddy plot line and predictable series of events. :D

Phil’s own jet landed well back from where the Avengers and their probationary asset had gone in to face Dr. Doom’s bots. They flew around like rabid sparrows dodging and weaving and randomly exploding over the Boston skyline. 

“Hey, Hawk guy, where the…” Iron Man began.

“On your left, bank hard to the right in 8 sec… you got it,” Hawkeye replied. 

Iron Man’s voice chirped back, “Thanks, bird brain.”

“Fun fact: Peregrine falcons can reach speeds of 200 miles per hour when falling on their prey.”

“Fun fact: Iron Man is cooler than a bird.”

“Fun fact: Those falcons hit stupid flying things and knock them out before dragging them off to eat.”

“Fun fact: …”

“Enough, men,” the Captain’s voice declared over the line.

The battle continued as Doombots were slowly taken from the sky. Black Widow and Captain America stayed on ground level, coordinating the attack, protecting civilians, and fighting off landed Doombots. Hawkeye stayed eyes on high yelling to Hulk when he came by and relaying potential hot spots, while sniping Doom Bots. Thor and Hulk were the muscle, pulverizing anything that came within reach. And Iron Man stayed high, zipping around and nipping problems in the bud. 

“I’m going to disable these damn things, I got into the mainframe,” Iron Man said over the lines. 

Suddenly Doombots dropped like stones but the genius hadn’t planned on Doom’s fail safe. They began to beep ominously. 

“Shit, these things are going to blow,” Widow said over the line. “Get out or get away.”

Hawkeye stood on the edge of the roof, as three Doombots collapsed into his nest. He pulled a grappling arrow and hoped it would get him far enough from the explosion to make a difference. 

“I’m coming Hawk!” Iron Man shouted over the line. 

Hawkeye fired the line and dove off the roof, just seconds before the bots exploded; the shock wave sent him into the brick wall and nearly knocked him out. He hung on doggedly, one arm gripping his bow as the other scrambled for his hearing aid, as one fell from his ear. He cursed out loud. 

Overhead the other roof blew and he was dropping suddenly. He felt metal arms come around him, just in time for his other hearing aid to be knocked from his head. Things went fuzzy for a few minutes before everything came into focus. 

Iron Man set him down on the ground next to the other Avengers; Iron Man shook him once, obviously saying something. Tony’s faceplate was closed and he couldn’t focus enough to tell Tony to lift his faceplate so he could at least read his lips.

Cap was the next one over putting a hand on his shoulder and saying something but he couldn’t focus well enough on his mouth to read his lips and he certainly couldn’t hear him. Clint flinched at the heavy hand on his shoulder, but couldn’t protest more than that. He felt like someone had slammed his head into a brick wall. 

He wasn’t sure, if people could understand him when he spoke without his aids but he had to try. “I’m going to barf, Cap.”

Cap didn’t understand him, or at least didn’t listen, so he bent over and threw up anyway. Just missing the good man’s shoes before he blacked out. 

>>>>>\----------------->

“I got the bird,” Iron Man said, pulling away. 

“Get him down over here. Why is he not responding to com calls?” Coulson asked, pointing medics over towards the staggering Hawkeye. 

Tony landed, holding Clint steady. “Well he was just blasted off a building, tossed into another, and hit by me at a little under 25 miles per hour… And I think his hearing aids fell out. I told you I was going to get that new pair to you, that pair was ridiculous.”

Clint stumbled out of Tony’s arms and nearly face planted in front of Steve. For his finale Clint threw up on the ground before blacking out.

>>>>>\----------------->

Clint came around in the back of the ambulance, smelling salts making him snort and push the medic’s hand away from his face. It wasn’t really an ambulance; it was a very large black van with a mobile surgery in the back. The medic was actually a general surgeon but Clint didn’t feel like acknowledging him as a ‘doctor’. 

The man’s mouth moved but no sound came out.

His aids were gone. He reached to touch his ears and they were empty, he forced himself not to panic. Where were the others? Where was Coulson?

“Coulson?” he tried saying, he wasn’t sure how intelligible it came out. “My team?

“How… Barton?” the man said leaning over, there was something in the middle but his lip reading skills weren’t great when people moved their heads. 

“I can’t understand you…” Clint started. “Where’s my team?” He hoped it sounded like that anyway.

“Your team?” the man asked, enunciating. “Right outside. We closed the doors because of how… helpful they were being.” 

Clint didn’t laugh. “I want to see Coulson.”

“He… come. What… you remember?”

The archer glared, sitting up and reaching for his bow, he had somehow managed to hold onto the thing the whole time. “Why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll tell you what I remember?”

The ambulance door came open then, and Coulson slipped in but not before Tony waved enthusiastically.

“How are you feeling Clint?” Phil asked, putting a hand on his arm and speaking clearly for him. 

“Fine.” Phil raised an eyebrow and waited. “Queasy.”

The medic looked over at Phil. “I think the dive off the roof just gave him a bit of vertigo, combined with a hit by Iron Man, the blast of the Doombots, and low blood sugar combined to make a spectacular blackout. I prescribe a scan of his head, rest, food, and G-force training.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Phil said. 

They were ushered out of the back of the van, where Tony, still in full Iron Man suit waiting outside, his faceplate finally up.

Clint knew he was shouting but couldn’t understand what he was saying. 

>>>>>\----------------->

“HELLO, HAWKEYE!” Tony shouted. “ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“Shouting at him is not going to help,” Phil said, guiding Clint out of the van.

Stark flipped him off before handing Clint a little phone. “There’s a text to speech program, I use it for copying my awesome thoughts but Clint can read what we’re talking about. I had Jarvis also pick up any loud noises he hears so that Clint can hear-read most everything.”

Clint looked at the phone and read what they had just said; he gave them a brief smile. He was skittish and kept a hand on Phil’s shoulder. 

“Where we goin’?” Clint asked, looking up before looking back to the little phone. 

“We need to go to the SHIELD base to get a scan and see if we can’t find you a second pair of hearing aids.” Clint read the text on his screen before looking up and nodding. 

“He should come stay at the tower… COME STAY AT THE TOWER!” Tony finished his arms doing a facsimile of sign language, grinning at Clint. 

The blonde did not look amused by the shouting and flipped Tony off. 

>>>>>\----------------->

Phil waited patiently outside while they scanned Clint and called the audiologist in. 

“Agent Coulson,” the audiologist started. “We have no other pair of hearing aids for Mr. Barton. We did originally have a pair but Mr. Stark took that pair for sizing purposes and we didn’t plan for a second pair. We can have another pair for him by tomorrow; they are filling the molds as we speak. However, Mr. Barton needs to take his hearing aids out occasionally. His canals are extremely irritated. I don’t want to take them from him but he must be in some pain. Can you speak to him about taking them out occasionally?”

Phil hesitated. Clint had not seemed very comfortable with the idea of no hearing aids and he was having a difficult time imagining Clint would keep them out. 

He nodded before turning on his heel and searching Clint out. 

The man was sitting on a table, his head swaying. “Clint?” he leaned down into the man’s range of vision.

“Coulson? My aids?” His words were a bit unclear but he got the message. 

He shook his head at Clint. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get new ones. The second pair is out of commission. They are making you new ones today.”

The blonde ran his hands frantically through his hair as he read the words on the phone. 

“I can’t hear…” he pleaded, “Please.” 

Coulson felt like the worst boyfriend ever. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Clint shook his head and instead stuck a thumbnail in his mouth, chewing hard. 

“Do you want to go to my place? Stay at SHIELD? Stark’s tower? What?”

Clint frowned. “Your place?” he asked. 

“Of course. We’ll get out of here.”

Phil kept up a running commentary on the way to his car; Clint kept on his heel, looking over his shoulder and at his phone. He warned Clint when he heard footsteps around the corner and when the elevator chimed. They were home in record time and Clint was calm as he climbed onto the couch and took deep breaths. 

Phil cooked tortellini as promised and hoped the smell would attract Clint into the room. It did. Clint came in warily, his eyes darting as he stepped into the dining area. The older man slowly approached. He put his hands on Clint’s shoulders, trying to be reassuring. 

“I know this is scary right now, but you are fine. I’m here, I’m not going to let anyone or anything get to you.” Clint nodded. 

“I’m not scared,” he grumbled. “I just don’t like this… this weakness.”

Phil shook his head. “You are anything but weak right now.”

Clint sighed. “Dinner?”

They ate dinner without the usual chatter with Clint’s eyes glued to the little phone next to his meal, occasionally lifting to sweep the room. 

Phil decided the only distraction would have to involve action. He let Clint finish dinner before he pulled Clint from his chair, dropping his Stark Phone into his pocket and pulling him to the bedroom. 

They mindlessly met on the bed, skin touching and bodies contorting as they made love. Phil found out that Clint made the most delightful sounds during sex when he couldn’t hear himself. He moaned louder and groaned deeper in his chest. It was hot. 

Phil had Clint tucked into his chest and was catching his breath when Phil heard a quiet, goofy laugh. 

“Funny?” he signed, looking at Clint. It was one of the few signs he had retained from his quick lesson on the Helicarrier after the discovery of Clint’s deafness. 

“I can’t hear you; it’s like porn on mute,” Clint said around a chuckle. 

Phil shoved his shoulder. “Go to sleep.” He didn’t mention anything when Clint put the StarkPhone on his chest so he could watch it. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, this isn't my favorite story... but I make no apologies. It is what it is.

He awakened at midnight, when he felt the bed shift slightly. Clint was still awake his eyes locked on the low-lit screen. 

“You can’t sleep?” Phil asked. He felt Clint jerk before his eyes met Coulson’s. 

“Startled me. Nothing had come up on the screen in a while.” Clint smiled sheepishly.

Phil frowned. “Can I do anything to help you sleep?” 

Clint shook his head. “No. Not unless you have a place with uncrackable security.”

“What about nearly uncrackable?” Phil asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“I’m not sleeping on the Helicarrier,” Clint said around a sigh.

“Not there,” Phil answered. 

And that’s how they found themselves strolling up to the outside of Stark’s tower, bags in hand at two in the morning. 

The archer looked over at Phil. “You sure Tony is okay with this?” 

Phil shrugged; Tony had too good a heart to turn him out. It was a well kept secret but he had been unable to hide it from the moment when he found out Stark had built Natasha a room, customizing it to her needs, and giving her the privacy and secrets she needed to function. Steve’s floor had been customized to reflect a 1940’s appeal with a modern art style, it had Pepper all over it but Steve had loved it. Thor’s room was a remake of Asgard’s hallowed halls mixed with Midgardian delights. Bruce’s had had the most work. Stark knew his greatest fear, killing an innocent, and had reinforced his room so that even if he were to rage out of control it wouldn’t destroy his home and roommates. His room was a paradise of Southern Asian design. 

Nonetheless, even he was a little surprised to see Tony waiting in one of the elevators. “When I said come to the tower, I meant this afternoon, not at two in the morning. This isn’t Motel 6… even if I do leave the light on.”

Clint looked down at the phone before looking back at Tony with a little frown. 

“Sarcasm doesn’t translate well, Stark,” Phil grumbled. Tony rolled his eyes and waved them into the elevator. 

“So I was working on a room for the Hawk but the Central Park police got a bit uppity about me taking out just a few trees to make nests... They just don’t sell proper nesting materials at the Home Depot.”

“You couldn’t steal a few puny trees, Stark? I’m disappointed in you,” Clint retorted. 

The billionaire snorted. “Yes, well, I managed something anyway. Jarvis is linked throughout the place. He will put what we are saying up on the wall and use lights to alert you in case you don’t have your ears on. Perfectly safe.” 

“I have a room for you too, Coulson and I was trying to decorate it but Cap kept taking his underpants back.”

“Tony… do you ever shut up?” Clint wondered. 

Tony pretended to mull it over before shaking his head. “And here is the Bird Nest…” The area was fairly plain, carpeted in dark gray but clean and classy. 

“There’s nothing inside,” Tony started. “I’ve just been chucking it together in my spare time. The range is down the hall. The kitchen is tiny but functional. Master bedroom is here but the guest room is the only one with a bed in it. Thank Steve in the morning, he muscled it out for you... you would think Captain America would be happy to be woken up in the middle of the night to help out. What’s the world come too?... Your rooms are partially furnished Coulson, just across the hall but this place is the only one wired with closed captioning. I can have this place habitable in a few days if you…”

Coulson holds up a hand to stop the rambling billionaire. “This is great Tony. Thank you for accommodating us.”

“Great. Great. Great… Breakfast is, well, whenever you get up to cook it. Agent, don’t touch my stuff. Creeper, welcome to civilization… and don’t kill me in my sleep.” Tony winked before striding out of the room without a backwards glance.

“Jarvis? Can you enable closed captioning?” Phil started. 

“Of course, sir. Would you like your words in a different font or color, Agent Barton?” The words were spoken as well as projected onto the wall Clint was facing. 

“Can you put it in purple?” Clint wondered.

“This shade, sir?” Jarvis questioned, using an aubergine shade. 

Clint nodded. 

Phil dragged their bags into the guest room with a bed and fell down, Clint was still wandering around and Phil was happy to let him. He heard a muffled noise and went back to the front room, searching for Clint. 

He saw a strange sight, Clint on the floor appearing to make snow angels in the carpet. He raised an eyebrow at Clint’s grin. 

“I love new carpet. Don’t judge,” Clint whispered. “And this shit is nice.”

Phil went back to bed. 

~*~

In the morning, he found Clint on the other side of the bed, dead to the world. Jarvis quietly explained how he had shown Clint the features of his system until the younger man felt safe enough to sleep. When he sat up, Clint sat up, whirling to face him. 

Coulson smiled at the dazed look on the man’s face. “Go back to sleep,” he urged, the words projected on the wall behind him. 

Clint nodded before laying back down. Coulson explored the kitchen but found nothing edible. He instead went upstairs to the common kitchen and found an industrial sized stove and oven and two of the largest refrigerators he had ever seen. He dug around and found a box of pancake mix and quickly fried three pounds of bacon in the oven, scrambled some eggs, and just as he was readying the griddle for the batter, did one Steve Rogers stride into the room. 

“Agent Coulson!” the old soldier said, a bit startled. “Tony said you were coming by last night. Sleep well?”

“Clint… long story. Would you like breakfast?”

Steve nodded, “Sounds good. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Pancakes, eggs, and bacon are not hard. Anything more sophisticated is going to bypass me. Just as a side note, Clint is staying here right now because of Jarvis and the closed captioning. His hearing aids aren’t in and he’s pretty thrown by it all.”

They made idle chatter before Jarvis informed them both that Clint was on his way.

Clint came in a second later. “Phil? Hi, Steve.”

Phil smiled over at him, he signed, “Good morning.”

“I don’t have my hearing aids, Steve, you have to wait for me to read what you say off the phone,” Clint said without prompting, talking louder than normal. 

Steve nodded, a little thrown by Clint’s abruptness. “That’s fine. How are you feeling?”

Clint stared at the phone before looking up and giving him a brief smile. “Fine.”

Tasha sashayed into the room a minute later, her long skirt just touching her calves, barefoot, and in a tank top. Clint looked up and smiled at her as she came in. 

“Wow, going hippy this morning, I see. Not even a bra. No underwear?” he waggled his eyebrows at her. 

“No hearing aids?” she answered, giving him a confident smirk. 

Clint frowned and flipped her off, she however was nice enough to speak clearly and put a hand on his back when she walked behind him. She held up the orange juice container and shook it at Clint, he nodded, and she poured him a glass while they waited for Phil to finish pancakes. 

Clint took a spot on the backside of the table, a place where no one could normally stand behind him and he had a clear run out of the room. Coulson took a seat on his right, his weaker side, and Natasha, after a wordless exchange of eyebrow lifts and head tilts took a seat on his left. 

“Good morning, all!” Tony breezed in, striding towards the coffee machine to take a mug full of his favorite drink, besides scotch. 

Clint lifted a fork and nodded his head in greeting, the others greeting him silently as they ate. 

Tony sat across from him, pushing in beside Steve to stab some pancakes. 

“Get your own,” Steve grumbled but nonetheless pushing some of his onto a separate plate for Tony. 

“But yours are better, they have syrup and are pre-cut.” The billionaire took a forkful and stuffed them in his mouth. “Who cooked?”

“Agent Coulson,” Steve answered. 

“A man of many scary talents… Hey, Creeper, these are for you… rush delivered. Consider it a gift for, you know, not bumping me off.” He flung a small black box across the table to Clint.

Clint ripped it open, looked at Tony for confirmation, before pushing them back into his ears, a sense of relief coming over him nearly instantly. Some of the tension drained from his spine as sound returned again. 

“They’re prototypes, you’re my alpha test. It’s really more of a test of the software and not the hardware. We should be able to hook in coms for battle situations and I’m working on being able to hook your cell phone straight into your ears, stream Pandora and podcasts straight into your head…”

“If you start messing with what I’m hearing…” Clint started. 

Phil put a hand on Clint’s forearm, soothing the tight muscles there. “Stark would never do that. It would be a huge breach of trust and professionalism.”

“Yeah… I won’t do anything without your consent… as long as you promise not to consider any more contracts for my head,” Tony answered with a raised eyebrow.

Clint rolled his eyes. “I didn’t take the contract. You were a douche but not evil, at least that’s what the news and my stake out gave me the impression of. Was I wrong?”

Tony shrugged. “Fairly accurate,” he conceded. 

“We should get back to my place after we clean up here,” Phil said as he started to cut up pancakes, trying to change the topic.

“Don’t worry about that,” Tony started. “It’s all taken care of.” He gave them both a wide smile. 

Phil looked confused. “What? The dishes? What exactly is taken care of Stark?”

“Well, I figured since you and Creeper here were shacking up, why not shack up here? The movers were just leaving your place when I talked to them last.”

Clint laughed, nearly falling out of his seat as Phil’s face seemed to boil with blood. 

Clint was going to like living here. Phil’s blood pressure was not.


End file.
